Sin @sevenversesin - Tumblr Blog

heyy:0 I love your content…for a request could Sin have piercings that he forgot he got a long time ago or smth in unexpected places where ot7 bts discovers them in intimate or casual ways🧐

DANGER

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Summary : Sin have a piercing somewhere

[ MASTERLIST ]

‧₊˚✧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ✧₊˚‧୨୧ ───────────────────── ୨୧⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

KIM NAMJOON

"Did you know you can swallow a whole strawberry without chewing?" Sin asked, apropos of nothing, twirling a stem between his fingers. Namjoon blinked, halfway through adjusting his headphones, and tried to parse whether this was a philosophical question or just Sin being Sin.

The dorm was quiet for once—just the hum of the fridge and the distant murmur of Seoul traffic bleeding through the windows. Sin sat cross-legged on the couch, looking unfairly pretty in Namjoon’s oversized hoodie, the sleeves swallowing his wrists whole. He’d been staying over more often lately, ever since that rainy afternoon when Namjoon had caught him napping in the studio, curled up like a cat in a sunbeam.

Namjoon nudged Sin’s knee with his own. "You’re thinking about fruit anatomy at," he checked his phone, "2 AM?"

Sin grinned, quick and bright, before ducking his head. "Hypothetically," he said, then bit his lip—a habit Namjoon had catalogued weeks ago, along with the way Sin’s cerulean eyes darted sideways when he was nervous. There was something endearingly deliberate about him, like he’d been designed to be noticed in increments.

Namjoon had fully intended to laugh—really, he had—when Sin leaned in suddenly, strawberry still clutched in one hand, and kissed him. But the moment their lips met, something metallic clicked against his teeth, and Sin made a small, confused noise against his mouth. Namjoon pulled back just enough to see Sin’s tongue dart out instinctively, the silver barbell glinting under the dim kitchen light.

"Oh," Sin said, blinking rapidly. His cheeks flushed pink. "I forgot about that."

Namjoon’s brain short-circuited. "You forgot," he repeated slowly, "that you have a tongue piercing?"

Sin bit his lip—right over the metal—and shrugged. "It was, um. A phase?" His voice pitched up at the end like it was a question. "I got it when I was sixteen. The guy said it would dissolve or something if I didn’t wear jewelry for a while, but—" He tapped it with his teeth, producing another soft click. "Guess not."

Namjoon’s fingers froze where they’d been carding through Sin’s messy white hair. "Dissolve," he repeated flatly, watching as Sin’s tongue darted out again—shy, testing—before disappearing behind pink lips. The metal glinted, incongruous against Sin’s doll-like innocence, and Namjoon felt his pulse stutter. "You thought piercings just… melt away?"

Sin’s shoulders hunched, his cerulean eyes flicking to the ceiling like salvation might be written there. "I was sixteen and googled ‘do tongue piercings grow back’ at three AM," he muttered, plucking at the hem of Namjoon’s hoodie where it pooled in his lap. "The internet said yes if you leave them out long enough. And I—" A pause, then, quieter: "I kind of forgot I had it until now."

Namjoon exhaled through his nose, half-laugh, half-disbelief. His thumb drifted to Sin’s lower lip, tugging it down just enough to see the barbell again. "What else did teenage-you forget?" he asked, and the way Sin’s breath hitched told him everything.

Sin’s fingers twitched against Namjoon’s thigh. "Just—" A swallow. "One more." His voice was so small Namjoon almost missed it. "But it’s stupid."

Namjoon’s fingers stilled against Sin’s lips. "One more," he repeated, slow, watching the way Sin’s eyelashes fluttered—like he was bracing for impact. The air between them thickened, charged with something Namjoon couldn’t name yet. He leaned in, close enough to count the faint freckles dusting Sin’s nose. "Show me."

Sin made a noise—half-protest, half-surrender—before twisting his fingers into the fabric of Namjoon’s hoodie and tugging it upward. The hem caught on his ribs, revealing a sliver of pale skin and the faintest silver glint beneath. Namjoon’s breath caught. "No way," he murmured, thumb brushing the delicate curve of Sin’s ribcage. The metal was cold against his skin, a tiny hoop nestled just above Sin’s left nipple. "You—"

"Told you it was stupid," Sin mumbled, staring resolutely at the couch cushions. His voice wavered. "I was drunk. And—and Jin-hyung dared me."

Namjoon's thumb hovered over the silver hoop, not quite touching, as if the mere existence of it had rewritten some fundamental law of physics. Sin squirmed under his gaze, the hoodie still rucked up around his ribs, his breath coming in shallow little hitches. The silence stretched—too long, too heavy—until Namjoon finally exhaled, warm against Sin’s collarbone. "Jin-hyung dared you," he repeated, voice low. "Of course he did."

The laugh that escaped Sin was thin, nervous. "He said it would make me look… edgy." His fingers flexed against Namjoon’s thigh, then stilled. "And then I passed out before I could take it out the next morning, and by the time I woke up—" A shrug, small and helpless. "I just forgot."

Namjoon traced the curve of the hoop, slow, deliberate, watching the way Sin’s stomach tensed under his touch. The metal was smooth, cool—utterly at odds with the warmth of Sin’s skin. "Edgy," he echoed, grinning when Sin groaned and covered his face with his hands. "You, Sin. Edgy."

"Shut up," Sin muttered, but there was no heat in it, just a breathless sort of embarrassment that made Namjoon want to kiss him again. So he did—slow this time, savoring the way Sin’s mouth yielded under his, the faint metallic taste of the barbell against his tongue. Sin made a soft noise, fingers twisting tighter in Namjoon’s hoodie, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them.

Namjoon’s fingers lingered at the hem of Sin’s hoodie, thumb brushing the exposed skin just above the waistband of his sweats. The air between them crackled with something unspoken—half curiosity, half hunger—and when Namjoon finally tugged the fabric up higher, Sin let out a shuddering breath but didn’t stop him. The silver hoop glinted under the dim light, nestled perfectly against the soft swell of Sin’s chest. "You really forgot about this too?" Namjoon murmured, voice rough with something he couldn’t quite name.

Sin’s cheeks flushed darker, his cerulean eyes darting away. "I—I don’t exactly go around checking," he stammered, fingers twitching where they clutched at Namjoon’s shoulders. "It’s not like I wake up and think, ‘Ah, yes, let’s see if my nipple ring is still there today.’"

Namjoon barked out a laugh, the sound too loud in the quiet dorm, and Sin’s embarrassed whine only made it worse. "God, you’re ridiculous," Namjoon said, but there was no bite to it—just fondness, thick and warm. He dipped his head, pressing a kiss just below the piercing, and felt Sin’s breath hitch. "Does it still hurt?"

Sin shook his head quickly, his white hair flopping into his eyes. "N-no. Just… sensitive." His voice was barely above a whisper, like he was admitting something secret.

Namjoon hummed against Sin’s skin, lips brushing the edge of the silver hoop before dragging lower, tracing the faint dip of his sternum. Sin’s breath stuttered, fingers tightening in Namjoon’s hair—not pulling, just holding on, as if he might float away otherwise. "Sensitive how?" Namjoon murmured, the words muffled against Sin’s stomach. He already knew the answer; he just wanted to hear Sin say it.

Sin squirmed, hips shifting restlessly under Namjoon’s weight. "Like—" He swallowed, voice cracking. "Like when you bite your lip too hard and it stings, but—but good?" The comparison was so painfully Sin that Namjoon had to press his smile into the softness of his stomach.

Above him, Sin made a wounded noise. "You’re laughing at me."

"Never," Namjoon lied, tilting his head up to catch the way Sin’s beauty mark creased with his frown. He hooked a finger through the piercing, tugging just enough to make Sin gasp—sharp, surprised—before soothing the spot with his tongue. Sin arched off the couch, a broken "Ah—" tumbling from his lips, and Namjoon filed the sound away for later, along with the way Sin’s cerulean eyes went glassy with want.

Sin's back hit the cushions with a soft thud, Namjoon's mouth still hot against his skin, the silver hoop catching on his teeth in a way that made Sin's toes curl. "W-wait," Sin gasped, fingers tangled in Namjoon's hair—not pushing him away, just holding on tighter, like he couldn't decide whether to anchor himself or let go entirely. "What if—what if someone hears?"

Namjoon paused, lips hovering over the flushed skin of Sin's stomach. The dorm was quiet, but not empty—somewhere down the hall, Hoseok's laughter echoed faintly, punctuated by the clatter of someone (probably Jungkook) dropping a controller. "They won't," Namjoon murmured, but he shifted anyway, hauling Sin up by the hips until their positions reversed—Sin straddling his lap now, knees bracketing Namjoon's thighs, the hem of his hoodie riding up to expose the delicate curve of his waist.

Sin made a startled noise, hands flying to Namjoon's shoulders for balance. "You—" He swallowed hard, cerulean eyes wide. The silver barbell on his tongue glinted as he licked his lips. "You can't just manhandle me like that."

Namjoon grinned, thumbs tracing the dip of Sin's hipbones. "Watch me," he said, and kissed him again—deep this time, slow and filthy, swallowing Sin's whimper when his tongue brushed against the piercing. Sin melted against him, pliant and sweet, his fingers trembling where they clutched at Namjoon's shirt.

Sin’s breath hitched when Namjoon’s fingers found the hem of his sweats, teasing at the waistband with deliberate slowness. The air between them was thick with the scent of strawberries and Sin’s nervous sweat, the kind that made Namjoon want to lick it off his collarbone just to hear him gasp. “You’re—” Sin started, then bit his lip hard enough to make the barbell click against his teeth. “You’re sure no one’s gonna—”

“Positive,” Namjoon lied, because Yoongi’s footsteps were definitely padding down the hall—light, but unmistakable—and the thrill of it sent a jolt down his spine. He palmed Sin through his sweats instead, grinning at the way Sin’s hips jerked forward like he couldn’t help it. “Unless you want to stop?”

Sin’s cerulean eyes went wide, scandalized. “You’re evil,” he whispered, but his fingers were already fumbling with the drawstring of Namjoon’s pajama pants, knuckles brushing against the hot skin of his stomach. The touch was clumsy, uncertain—like Sin had read about this in a manual but never expected to actually try it. Namjoon caught his wrist, guiding him lower, and Sin’s breath stuttered when his fingers finally wrapped around him.

“Oh,” Sin breathed, staring down at his own hand like it belonged to someone else. The silver hoop in his tongue glinted when he wet his lips. “You’re—” He squeezed experimentally, and Namjoon’s hips bucked up into his grip, knocking their foreheads together. Sin yelped, then giggled—bright and startled—and the sound was so Sin that Namjoon had to kiss him again, swallowing the noise before it could draw attention.

Namjoon’s breath hitched as Sin’s fingers tightened around him—hesitant at first, then gaining confidence when Namjoon groaned into his mouth. The dorm was too quiet now, the distant hum of Hoseok’s laughter fading into the background, replaced by the sharp, wet sound of their lips parting. Sin’s tongue brushed against his again, the barbell cold and slick, and Namjoon couldn’t help but bite down gently, just to hear the way Sin’s breath stuttered in response.

Sin pulled back slightly, panting, his cerulean eyes glazed. “You—” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. “You’re not gonna—tease me the whole time, are you?”

Namjoon grinned, thumb swiping over the silver hoop at Sin’s chest, making him jerk forward with a gasp. “Depends,” he murmured, leaning in to nip at Sin’s earlobe. “You gonna beg if I do?”

Sin’s entire face flushed pink, his fingers tightening instinctively around Namjoon’s length. “Shut up,” he hissed, but there was no real irritation—just that breathless embarrassment Namjoon loved so much.

Sin's fingers twitched against Namjoon's skin, his grip faltering when Namjoon's teeth grazed the shell of his ear. The dorm's central air clicked on with a quiet hum, sending a shiver down Sin's spine that had nothing to do with the temperature. "I—" he started, then choked on his own breath when Namjoon's thumb circled the silver hoop again, slow and deliberate. "I hate you," Sin whispered, but the way his hips rolled forward betrayed him entirely.

Namjoon laughed—soft, private—and caught Sin's wrist again, guiding him back to where he wanted him. "Liar," he murmured, and Sin's answering whimper was muffled against his shoulder as Namjoon's hand closed over his, showing him exactly how hard, how fast. The friction was delicious, Sin's palm warm and slightly damp where their fingers tangled together, and Namjoon had to bite back a groan when Sin's thumb swiped over the head experimentally.

Somewhere down the hall, a door creaked open—Yoongi's, probably—and Sin froze, his entire body going rigid against Namjoon's chest. "Shit," he breathed, his cerulean eyes darting toward the hallway like a startled deer. "Joon, wait—"

Namjoon didn't wait. He hooked a finger under Sin's chin, tilting his face back toward him, and kissed him deep enough to make his toes curl. The metallic taste of the barbell was sharper now, mingling with the faint strawberry sweetness still lingering on Sin's tongue. When he finally pulled back, Sin's lips were swollen, his breath coming in shallow little pants. "They're not coming in here," Namjoon said, though he had no way of knowing that for sure. The thrill of it curled low in his stomach.

Sin’s fingers dug into Namjoon’s shoulders, his body trembling with the effort of staying still. “You don’t know that,” he hissed, but the protest was weak, his voice cracking on the last syllable. The silver hoop at his chest glinted as his breath hitched, rising and falling too fast. Namjoon traced it with his thumb again, just to watch Sin’s eyelashes flutter—like he was fighting to keep his eyes open.

The footsteps in the hall paused—right outside the door—and Sin’s grip tightened to the point of pain. Namjoon could feel the rapid thud of his pulse where Sin’s thigh pressed against his own. For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the sound of someone’s socked feet shifting on the hardwood, the muffled rustle of fabric. Then—blessedly—the footsteps retreated, fading down the hallway toward the kitchen.

Sin exhaled shakily, his entire body slumping forward until his forehead bumped against Namjoon’s collarbone. “Oh my god,” he whispered, voice muffled against Namjoon’s shirt. “I’m gonna die.”

Namjoon grinned, pressing a kiss to the crown of Sin’s head. His hair smelled like vanilla and the faintest trace of sweat. “Dramatic,” he murmured, but his own heart was still pounding, adrenaline making his fingers twitch where they gripped Sin’s waist.

Sin lifted his head just enough to glare at Namjoon—or tried to, at least. His cerulean eyes were still glazed, his lower lip caught between his teeth in a way that made the silver barbell gleam. "Dramatic?" he repeated, voice wobbling. "You—you almost gave me a heart attack."

Namjoon laughed—soft, low—and slid his hands up Sin's back under the oversized hoodie, fingers tracing the delicate notches of his spine. "You're fine," he murmured, pressing a kiss to Sin's forehead. "Besides, I'm pretty sure Yoongi-hyung knows what sex sounds like."

Sin made a noise like a deflating balloon, his entire face flushing crimson. "I hate you," he groaned, but his hips shifted restlessly against Namjoon's thighs, betraying him completely. "And—and we weren't even having sex—"

"Yet," Namjoon added helpfully, grinning when Sin's jaw dropped open in scandalized protest. He took advantage of the moment to duck his head, catching Sin's bottom lip between his teeth and tugging gently—just enough to make the barbell click against his incisor. Sin's protest dissolved into a gasp, his fingers scrambling for purchase against Namjoon's shoulders.

Sin's hips jerked forward involuntarily, the sudden friction drawing a ragged breath from Namjoon's throat. The sound seemed to startle Sin—his cerulean eyes widening like he hadn't realized he could do that—before his expression shifted into something quietly delighted. "Oh," he breathed, fingers tightening in Namjoon's hair as he rocked down again experimentally. The movement was clumsy, unpracticed, but the way Namjoon's grip spasmed against his waist told him everything.

Namjoon's exhale came out strangled. "Fuck, Sin—" His thumbs dug into the dip of Sin's hipbones, holding him still for a heartbeat before guiding his movements into something slower, deeper. The hoodie had ridden up completely now, bunched under Sin's armpits, exposing the pale expanse of his stomach and the silver glint of his nipple ring catching the dim light. Namjoon ducked his head, pressing an open-mouthed kiss just below the hoop, and Sin's thighs trembled where they bracketed Namjoon's own.

Somewhere beyond the couch, the fridge hummed to life—a mundane counterpoint to the way Sin's breath hitched when Namjoon's tongue flicked over the piercing. "J-Joon," he stammered, his voice cracking on the syllable, "I—" The rest of the sentence dissolved into a whimper as Namjoon's teeth grazed the sensitive skin, the metal hoop cool against his lips.

Sin's fingers twisted tighter in Namjoon's hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. The sound seemed to startle Sin—his grip loosening immediately—but Namjoon caught his wrist, guiding it back. "Don't stop," he murmured against Sin's collarbone, lips brushing the delicate hollow there. "I like it."

Sin made a noise halfway between a whimper and a laugh, his fingers tightening again—tentative at first, then firmer when Namjoon groaned his approval. The silver barbell on his tongue clicked against his teeth as he swallowed hard. "You—" His voice cracked, hips stuttering forward helplessly. "You like it?"

Namjoon's grin was all teeth against Sin's collarbone. "Yeah," he breathed, dragging his lips upward until they brushed the silver hoop at Sin's chest. The metal was warm now from Sin's skin, but still cool enough to make him shiver when Namjoon flicked it with his tongue. "You got any more surprises hidden under this hoodie?"

Sin squirmed, his cerulean eyes darting to the side—a tell Namjoon had memorized weeks ago. "N-no," he lied, too quickly, his fingers twitching against Namjoon's scalp.

Namjoon arched a brow, hands sliding up Sin's back under the hoodie to trace the delicate bumps of his spine. "Liar," he murmured, and Sin's breath hitched when Namjoon's thumbs found the twin dimples just above his waistband. The skin there was smooth, untouched—no piercings, but Sin shuddered like he'd been branded anyway.

Sin's breath stuttered when Namjoon's fingers traced the waistband of his sweats, dipping just beneath the fabric to skim the sensitive skin there. "I—" His voice cracked, his cerulean eyes darting toward the hallway again, though the dorm had gone suspiciously silent. "I swear that's it," he whispered, but his hips arched forward into Namjoon's touch, betraying him completely.

Namjoon hummed, unconvinced, and hooked his thumbs into the elastic, tugging just enough to make Sin gasp. "You sure?" he murmured, lips brushing the shell of Sin's ear. "No… hidden tattoos? No other piercings you forgot about?" The last word was punctuated by a sharp nip to Sin's earlobe, and Sin jerked like he'd been shocked, his fingers scrambling against Namjoon's shoulders.

Sin's mouth opened—probably to protest—but all that came out was a broken moan when Namjoon's palm pressed against him through the thin fabric of his sweats. The sound was muffled against Namjoon's collarbone, Sin's teeth sinking into his own lower lip hard enough to make the barbell click. "N-no," he managed, voice thready. "Just—just those two."

Namjoon's grin was wicked. "Prove it," he said, and before Sin could react, he hauled him forward by the hips, flipping them so Sin's back hit the couch cushions with a soft thump. Sin yelped, his white hair fanning out against the fabric, his cerulean eyes wide with startled arousal. Namjoon hovered over him, knees bracketing Sin's thighs, and slowly—deliberately—tugged the hoodie up higher, exposing the pale expanse of Sin's stomach and the silver hoop glinting just above his nipple.

Sin’s breath hitched as Namjoon’s fingers traced the outline of the silver hoop, his touch feather-light but deliberate enough to make Sin squirm. The hoodie was bunched under his armpits now, the fabric stretched tight across his chest, and Sin swallowed hard when Namjoon’s thumb flicked the metal gently—just enough to send a jolt of sensation straight to his groin. “J-Joon,” he stammered, his voice cracking, “you’re—”

Namjoon silenced him with a kiss, deep and filthy, swallowing Sin’s whimper as his tongue brushed against the barbell again. The taste of metal and strawberries mingled, sharp and sweet, and Sin’s fingers tangled in Namjoon’s hair like he was afraid he’d float away otherwise. When Namjoon finally pulled back, Sin’s lips were swollen, his cerulean eyes hazy with want. “You were saying?” Namjoon murmured, his breath hot against Sin’s mouth.

Sin opened his mouth—probably to protest—but the words died in his throat when Namjoon’s teeth grazed the silver hoop at his chest, tugging just enough to make him arch off the couch with a choked gasp. The sound was muffled against his own forearm, Sin biting down hard to stifle it, but Namjoon caught his wrist, pulling it away. “Don’t,” he said, voice rough. “I want to hear you.”

Sin’s face burned, his free hand fluttering uselessly against Namjoon’s shoulder. “B-but—”

Namjoon didn’t let him finish. He ducked his head, lips closing around the silver hoop, and sucked—slow, deliberate—until Sin’s back arched off the couch with a broken cry. The sound was raw, unfiltered, and Namjoon felt it vibrate through his own ribs like a live wire. Sin’s fingers scrabbled against his shoulders, nails biting into fabric, but he didn’t push him away—just held on tighter, his thighs trembling where they bracketed Namjoon’s hips.

“Fuck,” Sin gasped, his voice shattered. The barbell on his tongue glinted as he panted, chest heaving. “I—I didn’t know it’d feel like that—”

Namjoon grinned against his skin, dragging his teeth lightly over the sensitive spot just below the piercing. “That’s the point,” he murmured, thumb brushing the other nipple—still bare, still pink—just to watch Sin’s hips jerk. “You really never touched them?”

Sin shook his head frantically, his white hair mussed against the cushion. “N-no, I—” His breath hitched when Namjoon’s fingers pinched gently, rolling the bud between them. “I told you, I forgot—”

Sin’s protest dissolved into a whine as Namjoon’s mouth closed over the other nipple, his tongue flicking the bare skin with deliberate contrast—no metal this time, just heat and wetness and the sharp edge of teeth. The difference was dizzying; Sin’s back arched off the couch, his fingers twisting in Namjoon’s hair hard enough to sting. “Oh—oh,” he gasped, the syllables fracturing as Namjoon bit down gently, then soothed the spot with his tongue.

Namjoon pulled back just enough to watch Sin’s face—the way his cerulean eyes had gone glassy, his pink lips parted around ragged breaths. The silver barbell on his tongue glinted when he swallowed, his throat working visibly. “Still think piercings dissolve?” Namjoon murmured, dragging his thumb over the flushed skin just below the hoop.

Sin groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Stop,” he mumbled, but his hips rolled forward helplessly, the friction drawing a ragged gasp from Namjoon’s throat. The sound seemed to startle Sin—his hands dropping to clutch at Namjoon’s shoulders—like he hadn’t realized he could pull that noise from him.

Namjoon caught Sin’s wrists, pinning them gently to the couch cushions above his head. “You’re adorable,” he said, grinning at the way Sin’s nose scrunched in protest. “All flushed and squirming like this.” He leaned down, lips brushing Sin’s ear. “And you still haven’t answered my question.”

KIM SEOKJIN

"Wait—what the hell is that?" Seokjin's fingers stilled against Sin's hip, his thumb pressing into the soft dip of his waistband. They were tangled together in the dim glow of the hotel room, Sin's white hair mussed against the pillows, lips swollen from kissing. Jin had been tracing lazy circles along his ribs when his fingertips brushed something unexpected—a small, hard bump beneath the fabric.

Sin blinked up at him, cheeks flushed. "Hm?"

Jin hooked a finger into the collar of Sin’s shirt and tugged it down just enough to reveal a silver barbell nestled in the curve of his left nipple. The metal caught the light, glinting sharply against his pale skin. Sin's breath hitched as Jin traced it, his touch feather-light. "You—you have a piercing?" Jin’s voice was equal parts disbelief and fascination.

Sin’s brow furrowed, then cleared in slow realization. "Oh. Ohhh. I… forgot about that." He laughed, sheepish, the sound dissolving into a gasp when Jin’s thumb rolled over the jewelry experimentally. "I got it forever ago—like, middle school rebellion phase? My friend dared me. It hurt like a bitch, so I never got another one."

Jin’s laugh was low, warm against Sin’s throat as he nipped at the delicate skin there. "Middle school rebellion," he repeated, voice laced with amusement. "And here I thought you were all innocence." His fingers lingered on the metal, tracing the curve of it, the way it nestled so perfectly against Sin’s skin—like it belonged there, even if he’d forgotten it existed.

Sin squirmed, breath hitching when Jin’s thumb brushed over the sensitive peak again. "I—I am innocent," he protested, though the way his hips arched up betrayed him. His voice was breathless, cheeks flushed deeper now. "Mostly. It was just—one stupid thing. And my tongue, but—"

Jin froze.

Slowly, he pulled back just enough to meet Sin’s eyes, his own wide with dawning realization. "Your tongue?"

Sin’s lips parted instinctively, the tip of his tongue flicking out in a nervous habit—revealing the glint of silver nestled just beneath the surface. Jin’s grip tightened on his hips, his breath catching in his throat. "You," he murmured, voice rough with something Sin couldn’t name, "are full of surprises."

Before Sin could stutter out another excuse—another forgotten rebellion, another dare he’d been too stubborn to back down from—Jin’s fingers slid up his ribs, curling around the back of his neck to pull him in. Their mouths crashed together, Sin’s gasp swallowed by Jin’s kiss. This time, Jin didn’t hesitate—his tongue swept past Sin’s lips, seeking the metal he’d only glimpsed. The moment he found it, Sin shuddered, his fingers twisting in the sheets. The piercing was small, subtle, but Jin traced it with deliberate curiosity, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat of their mouths.

Sin moaned, the sound muffled against Jin’s lips, his hips jerking up instinctively. Jin broke the kiss just long enough to smirk down at him, his thumb pressing against Sin’s bottom lip. "You forgot about this?" he teased, voice dripping with amusement. "How do you forget a tongue piercing?"

Sin whined, his cheeks burning. "I—I don’t use it," he mumbled, eyes darting away. "It was just there, and then—I got used to it?"

Jin’s laughter vibrated against Sin’s collarbone, warm and indulgent. “You don’t use it,” he repeated, dragging his teeth lightly over the jut of Sin’s shoulder. “That’s a fucking tragedy.” His hand slid down Sin’s side, fingers skimming the hem of his shirt before tugging it up further, exposing the silver barbell fully to the dim light. Sin shivered, his skin pebbling under Jin’s gaze. “And this?” Jin’s thumb circled the piercing, slow, deliberate. “You forgot this too?”

Sin’s breath hitched. “It—it didn’t do anything,” he admitted, voice thin. “Just sat there. Like a… a weird mole.”

Jin snorted, pressing a kiss to the hollow of Sin’s throat. “A weird mole,” he echoed, mock-serious. “Right.” His tongue darted out, flicking the metal once—just to watch Sin jerk beneath him, a choked noise escaping his lips. Jin grinned, wicked. “Seems like it does something now.”

Sin’s hands fluttered, unsure where to land—Jin’s shoulders, his hair, the sheets—before finally settling on clutching at Jin’s biceps. “T-that’s cheating,” he stammered, hips lifting instinctively.

Jin’s grin widened, slow and deliberate, his fingers tightening around Sin’s waist as he leaned down to press another kiss to his collarbone—this one lingering, open-mouthed. “Cheating?” he murmured against the damp skin, his breath hot. “Baby, we haven’t even started playing yet.”

Sin’s breath stuttered out in a shaky exhale, his fingers twitching against Jin’s arms. The metal of his tongue piercing clicked faintly against his teeth when he tried—and failed—to form a coherent response. Jin didn’t give him the chance. His mouth found Sin’s again, insistent, his tongue sliding past his lips with none of the earlier hesitation. This time, he didn’t just trace the piercing—he played with it, the tip of his tongue flicking against the cool metal in a way that had Sin arching off the bed with a startled gasp.

“J-Jin—” Sin’s voice cracked, his hips jerking up against nothing, desperate for friction. Jin’s hand slid down to grip his thigh, squeezing just hard enough to make him whine. “You—you’re teasing.”

Jin pulled back just far enough to smirk at him, his lips glistening. “And you’re reacting,” he countered, thumb brushing over Sin’s bottom lip again. “Which, honestly, is fucking fascinating.” His other hand slipped beneath Sin’s shirt fully now, pushing the fabric up until it bunched under his arms, exposing the smooth plane of his stomach—and the silver barbell nestled in the curve of his nipple. Jin’s gaze darkened as he traced it again, his touch feather-light. “Tell me something,” he murmured, his voice dropping low. “Did it ever occur to you that these might be sensitive?”

Sin’s breath hitched as Jin’s fingers circled the piercing again, his touch deliberate, almost clinical—until it wasn’t. Until his thumb pressed down just enough to make Sin gasp, his back arching off the mattress. “N-no,” Sin admitted, his voice trembling. “I—I thought they just… sat there.”

Jin’s chuckle was dark, his lips brushing the shell of Sin’s ear. “Then you’ve been missing out.” His teeth grazed the sensitive skin there, and Sin shuddered, fingers tightening in Jin’s shirt. “Let’s fix that.”

Sin barely had time to process the words before Jin’s mouth was on him—not his lips, not his throat, but lower, his tongue flicking against the silver barbell in a way that sent electricity skittering down Sin’s spine. His hips jerked up involuntarily, a broken noise tearing from his throat. “Jin—fuck—”

Jin hummed against his skin, the vibration making Sin’s toes curl. “Language,” he chided, though the grin in his voice ruined any attempt at scolding. His tongue circled the piercing again, slower this time, savoring the way Sin squirmed beneath him. “You’re loud,” he mused, dragging his teeth lightly over the sensitive peak. “I like it.”

Sin's fingers tangled in Jin's hair, tugging just enough to make him groan—a sound that Sin swallowed eagerly when Jin's mouth crashed back into his. The kiss was messy, all teeth and desperation, Jin's tongue tracing the piercing with a precision that left Sin's thighs trembling. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this aware of the metal in his mouth, the way it heated under Jin's attention, a constant, teasing pressure that made his pulse throb in his throat.

Jin pulled back suddenly, lips slick and swollen, his gaze flickering down to where Sin's shirt was still rucked up under his arms. "You're blushing," he murmured, dragging a knuckle down Sin's chest, pausing to toy with the barbell again. "Everywhere." Sin whined, hips lifting off the bed in a silent plea, but Jin just smirked, leaning down to nip at his collarbone instead. "Patience," he chided, though the way his fingers tightened on Sin's waist betrayed his own desperation.

Sin's breath stuttered when Jin's hand finally—finally—slid lower, palming him through his jeans. The fabric was rough against his overheated skin, the friction maddening. "Jin," he gasped, his voice cracking, "please—"

Jin's laugh was dark, his thumb pressing down in a slow, deliberate circle. "Please what?" he teased, his breath hot against Sin's throat. "Use your words, baby."

Sin's back arched off the mattress as Jin's fingers worked the button of his jeans with agonizing slowness, each brush of his knuckles against the strained fabric sending sparks up his spine. "I—" he started, then choked on his own breath when Jin's thumb pressed down harder, the heel of his palm grinding against him just right. His hips jerked up instinctively, chasing the friction, but Jin pulled back with a smirk, leaving Sin panting against the sheets.

"You what?" Jin prompted, his voice rough with amusement. He leaned down, his lips grazing the shell of Sin's ear. "Tell me."

Sin whimpered, fingers twisting in the sheets as Jin's teeth scraped his earlobe. "Want—want you to touch me," he managed, voice breaking on the last word.

Jin's grin was wicked as he finally—finally—slid Sin's jeans down his hips, the cool air hitting his overheated skin like a shock. His fingers traced the waistband of Sin's underwear, deliberate, teasing, before hooking into the fabric and tugging it down just enough to expose the flushed length of him. Sin's breath hitched, his thighs trembling under Jin's gaze.

Sin's pulse roared in his ears as Jin's fingers traced the dip of his hipbone, slow and deliberate, like he was mapping every inch of skin. The cool air made him shiver, but Jin's touch burned—hotter where it lingered near the barbell still glinting against his ribs. "You're beautiful," Jin murmured, the words rough against Sin's throat, his lips brushing the fluttering pulse there. "Like this. All—" His thumb swiped over the head of Sin's cock, smearing the wetness gathered there, and Sin's back arched off the bed with a punched-out gasp. "—desperate for me."

Sin's nails dug into Jin's shoulders, his hips jerking up into the touch instinctively. "J-Jin—" His voice cracked, high and whining, when Jin's fingers wrapped around him fully, stroking once—slow, torturous. The metal in his tongue clicked against his teeth as he gasped, his thighs trembling. "Fuck, fuck—"

Jin chuckled, dark and pleased, his thumb circling the head of Sin's cock in tight, maddening spirals. "You keep saying that," he mused, leaning down to nip at Sin's jaw. "But you're not doing anything about it." His free hand slid up Sin's ribs, pausing to toy with the barbell again, pinching just enough to make Sin's hips stutter. "Unless—" Jin's tongue traced the shell of Sin's ear, his breath hot. "—you want me to?"

Sin's moan was muffled against Jin's shoulder, his hips lifting helplessly into the slick friction of Jin's grip. "Please," he gasped, the word dissolving into a whimper when Jin's thumb pressed against the slit, rubbing in slow, wet circles. "Please, please, I—"

Jin’s breath hitched at the raw need in Sin’s voice, his grip tightening just enough to make Sin’s toes curl into the sheets. He’d never heard him sound like this—so unraveled, so hungry—and the realization sent a sharp thrill down his spine. “Since you asked so nicely,” Jin murmured, dragging his teeth along the line of Sin’s jaw before shifting lower, his lips brushing the hollow of his throat. His fingers slowed their strokes, twisting lazily at the tip just to watch Sin’s hips jerk, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Sin’s fingers tangled in Jin’s hair, tugging weakly as Jin’s mouth trailed lower, skimming over his collarbones, the dip between his ribs—pausing to flick his tongue against the barbell nestled there. Sin whimpered, his back arching off the bed when Jin sucked lightly at the metal, the sensation sparking bright and electric under his skin. “You’re sensitive,” Jin mused against his skin, his voice thick with amusement. “Everywhere.” His hand slid down Sin’s thigh, gripping just hard enough to leave marks, before nudging his legs apart. Sin went willingly, pliant under Jin’s touch, his breath hitching when Jin’s fingers traced the crease of his thigh.

The first brush of Jin’s tongue against his cock had Sin crying out, his hips lifting off the bed instinctively. Jin chuckled, the sound vibrating against his skin, before taking him in fully, his tongue pressing against the underside in slow, deliberate strokes. Sin’s fingers scrabbled at the sheets, his vision whiting out at the edges as Jin’s mouth worked him over—hot, wet, perfect. The silver in his tongue clicked faintly against Sin’s skin, the cool metal a sharp contrast to the heat of his mouth, and Sin felt it, every drag, every flick, the way Jin traced the piercing with relentless precision.

“J-Jin—” Sin’s voice cracked, his thighs trembling under Jin’s hands. “I—I’m gonna—”

Jin didn’t let him finish. He pulled off with a filthy, wet sound, his lips glistening as he smirked up at Sin. “Not yet,” he murmured, his thumb pressing down on the head of Sin’s cock just enough to make him whine. “You’re mine tonight. I decide when.” His fingers traced the veins along Sin’s length, slow and torturous, before wrapping around him again, stroking once—twice—just to watch Sin’s hips stutter.

Sin’s breath came in ragged gasps, his fingers twisting in Jin’s hair, tugging weakly. “You’re—cruel,” he managed, voice cracking as Jin’s thumb circled the head again, smearing precome down his shaft.

Jin’s laugh was dark, his breath hot against Sin’s inner thigh. “And you love it.” He didn’t give Sin time to argue—just leaned down and took him back into his mouth, sucking hard enough to make Sin’s back arch off the bed, a broken moan tearing from his throat. The metal in Jin’s tongue pressed against him in a way that sent sparks skittering up his spine, every flick deliberate, every stroke calculated to drag Sin closer to the edge without letting him fall.

Sin’s thighs trembled, his toes curling into the sheets as Jin worked him over with ruthless precision. He could feel the tension coiling tight in his stomach, his hips jerking up into the wet heat of Jin’s mouth—but every time he got close, Jin would pull back, his grip tightening just enough to keep him teetering on the brink.

Sin's fingers knotted tighter in Jin's hair, his thighs shaking as Jin's tongue swirled around the head of his cock, the piercing clicking faintly against sensitive flesh. "J—Jin, please," he gasped, voice raw. The words dissolved into a whine when Jin pulled off again, pressing a kiss to the inside of his thigh instead. His lips curved against damp skin. "You taste good," Jin murmured, dragging his teeth lightly over the flushed skin. "But you're still not listening." His thumb pressed into the hollow of Sin's hipbone, pinning him to the mattress as his other hand traced the barbell on his ribs. "I told you—I decide when."

Sin whimpered, his back arching when Jin's fingers skimmed lower, tracing the crease of his thigh—so close, but never where he needed. Jin smirked, watching the way Sin's breath hitched, his hips lifting helplessly. "You're impatient," he chided, though his own breathing was uneven, his pupils blown wide. His fingers curled around Sin's cock again, stroking slow, maddening. "Tell me what you want."

Sin's nails scraped Jin's shoulders, his voice cracking. "You—inside me," he begged, the admission tearing loose like a confession. Jin's grip tightened, his breath stuttering. "Yeah?" His thumb swiped over the head of Sin's cock, smearing wetness down the shaft. "You want me to fuck you?" Sin's hips jerked, a broken noise escaping his lips. Jin leaned down, his tongue tracing the shell of Sin's ear. "Say it."

"Fuck me," Sin gasped, the words ragged. "Please—Jin, please—"

Jin’s breath hitched at the raw desperation in Sin’s voice, his fingers tightening around Sin’s hips as he leaned down to capture his lips in a searing kiss. The taste of Sin—sharp and sweet—flooded his senses, the cool metal of his tongue piercing brushing against Jin’s own with every flick of his tongue. “Fuck,” Jin muttered against his mouth, his voice rough. “You’re killing me.”

Sin whined, his fingers scrambling at Jin’s waistband, clumsy with urgency. Jin chuckled, low and dark, before pulling back just enough to shove his own jeans down his thighs, kicking them off with impatient haste. Sin’s gaze dropped instantly, his lips parting at the sight of Jin’s cock, flushed and heavy against his stomach. “Oh,” he breathed, his hips lifting instinctively.

Jin smirked, palming himself slowly, watching the way Sin’s eyes tracked the movement with rapt attention. “Like what you see?” he teased, thumb brushing over the head just to watch Sin shiver. Sin nodded, his tongue darting out to wet his lips—click, the silver glinting—before Jin leaned down again, pressing him into the mattress with the full weight of his body.

Sin gasped at the contact, his legs spreading wider to accommodate Jin’s hips, his cock sliding against Jin’s stomach with a slick drag that made his breath stutter. Jin groaned, his fingers digging into Sin’s waist as he ground down, the friction electric. “Fuck, you feel—” His words dissolved into a growl as Sin arched beneath him, his nails scraping down Jin’s back.

The lube was cool against Jin’s fingers when he finally slicked them, pressing a kiss to Sin’s trembling thigh as he traced the tight furl of him. Sin’s breath hitched, his hips jerking instinctively when Jin’s fingertip circled the rim—slow, teasing, maddening. “Relax,” Jin murmured against his skin, his breath hot. “I’ve got you.”

Sin whimpered, his fingers twisting in the sheets as Jin pressed in—just the tip, just enough to make his back arch off the mattress with a choked gasp. Jin watched, mesmerized, as Sin’s mouth fell open, the silver glint of his tongue piercing catching the dim light. “Fuck,” Jin breathed, his own cock twitching against Sin’s thigh. “You’re tight.”

Sin’s thighs trembled as Jin worked him open, his fingers careful but relentless, each twist and curl dragging a broken noise from Sin’s throat. By the time Jin added a second finger, Sin was a writhing mess beneath him, his cock leaking against his stomach, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “J—Jin,” he stammered, his voice cracking. “Please.”

Jin crooked his fingers just right, and Sin screamed, his back bowing off the bed as pleasure ripped through him like lightning. Jin’s grin was feral, his fingers relentless as they stroked that spot again—and again—watching Sin unravel beneath him. “You like that?” he murmured, his voice rough. Sin could only nod, his lips parted around silent, panting breaths. Jin’s thumb brushed against the barbell on Sin’s nipple, pinching just enough to make him jerk. “Tell me.”

Sin’s fingers clawed at Jin’s shoulders, his hips stuttering upward as Jin’s fingers pressed deeper—right there, a white-hot spike of pleasure that left his vision swimming. “Y-yes,” he gasped, the word dissolving into a whine when Jin’s thumb circled the barbell again, sending sparks skittering down his spine. “Jin—god, I—“

Jin kissed the hinge of Sin’s jaw, his lips brushing the frantic pulse beneath his skin. “Tell me more,” he murmured, fingers twisting slowly, deliberately, watching Sin’s mouth fall open around a silent moan. His tongue darted out to trace the silver piercing, the cool metal clicking faintly against his teeth. “You sound pretty like this.”

Sin’s back arched off the mattress when Jin added a third finger, the stretch burning just enough to make his breath hitch—but Jin’s mouth was on his before he could protest, swallowing the punched-out noise he made when Jin’s fingers curled just so. The kiss was messy, Jin’s tongue sliding against his piercing in a way that made Sin’s thighs tremble, his hips jerking helplessly into the touch.

When Jin finally pulled back, Sin’s lips were swollen, his chest heaving. Jin’s fingers stilled inside him, his other hand smoothing up Sin’s ribs to thumb at his nipple piercing again. “Ready?” he asked, voice rough. Sin nodded frantically, his legs tightening around Jin’s waist—yes, yes, please—but Jin smirked, leaning down to nip at his bottom lip. “Say it.”

Sin’s voice shattered around the word—“Now”—before Jin’s mouth crashed into his again, swallowing the desperate plea. The kiss was molten, Jin’s tongue tracing the silver in Sin’s mouth like he was memorizing the shape of it, the way Sin trembled when the cool metal brushed his own. Jin pulled back just far enough to slick himself, his grip tight around his cock, his breath ragged. “Watch,” he ordered, voice rough, guiding Sin’s hand to where he was pressing in—slow, relentless—until Sin’s fingers curled around the base of him, feeling the stretch of his own body around Jin’s length.

Sin’s breath hitched, his thighs shaking as Jin bottomed out, their hips pressed flush. For a moment, neither moved—Jin’s forehead dropped against Sin’s, his exhale shuddering. “Fuck,” he gritted out, his fingers digging into Sin’s waist. “You’re—tight.”

Sin whined, his hips lifting instinctively, and Jin groaned, his grip tightening. “Wait,” he warned, though his voice was wrecked. He dragged his lips down Sin’s throat, pausing to bite at the flutter of his pulse. “Let me—fuck—let me last.”

But Sin was beyond patience, his nails scoring down Jin’s back as he arched up, forcing Jin deeper with a broken gasp. Jin cursed, his hips jerking forward involuntarily, and Sin moaned, the sound high and wrecked. “J-Jin—move—”

Jin's grip on Sin's hips turned bruising as he finally—finally—pulled out halfway before slamming back in, the force of it knocking a ragged cry from Sin's throat. The silver in his tongue clicked sharply against his teeth as his head fell back against the pillows, his legs tightening around Jin's waist to pull him deeper. Jin groaned, low and rough, his forehead pressing into the crook of Sin's neck as he set a relentless pace, each thrust punching the air from Sin's lungs.

"Look at you," Jin panted against Sin's damp skin, his voice wrecked. His fingers dug into Sin's thighs, spreading them wider as he angled his hips—there, a sharp, perfect twist that had Sin's vision whiting out. The barbell on Sin's nipple glinted as Jin's thumb brushed over it, the touch light enough to tease but firm enough to make Sin arch off the bed with a broken sob. "You take me so good," Jin murmured, his lips skimming Sin's collarbone. "Like you were made for it."

Sin's fingers scrabbled at Jin's shoulders, his mouth falling open around a silent gasp when Jin's hand slid between them, wrapping around Sin's cock in a slick, tight grip. The dual sensation—Jin inside him, Jin's hand on him—left Sin trembling, his thighs shaking with the effort to keep from unraveling too soon. Jin's thumb swiped over the head of his cock, smearing precome down the shaft, and Sin whined, the sound dissolving into a moan when Jin's tongue traced the shell of his ear.

"Come for me," Jin growled, his voice raw with want. His fingers tightened around Sin's cock, stroking in time with his thrusts—rough, perfect, too much. Sin's back bowed off the bed, his nails biting into Jin's skin as pleasure coiled tight in his stomach, burning white-hot under his skin. Jin's mouth found his again, swallowing Sin's choked gasp as his hips stuttered, his orgasm crashing over him in waves—Jin's name on his lips, Jin's tongue tracing the piercing in his mouth, Jin's cock buried deep inside him as he fucked Sin through it.

Sin's vision blurred at the edges as pleasure wracked through him in shuddering pulses, his body clamping down around Jin in rhythmic spasms. Jin groaned against his throat, his thrusts turning jagged as Sin's heat milked him relentlessly. "Fuck—fuck—" Jin's fingers dug into the meat of Sin's thigh as his hips stuttered, his rhythm fracturing.

When Jin came, it was with Sin's name bitten into the curve of his shoulder—a hot, bruising kiss that Sin would wear proudly tomorrow. The weight of Jin's body pressed him deeper into the mattress, their sweat-slick skin sticking together as they gasped in unison, both trembling with the aftershocks.

Jin was the first to move, his lips brushing Sin's temple as he carefully pulled out. Sin whimpered at the loss, his thighs twitching, but Jin hushed him with a kiss—soft now, languid, their earlier desperation tempered into something warm and syrupy-slow. "Okay?" Jin murmured against Sin's swollen lips, his thumb tracing the beauty mark beneath Sin's eye.

Sin nodded, his breathing still uneven. "Mhm." His voice was wrecked, throat raw from moaning. He blinked up at Jin, cerulean eyes hazy with spent pleasure, and something in Jin's chest tightened at the sight.

MIN YOONGI

The piercing studio had smelled like antiseptic and regret, which Sin only remembered now because Yoongi’s tongue was in his mouth.

It was the kind of forgotten detail that resurfaced at the worst possible moment—like how Sin had once, at sixteen and stupidly brave, let some underground artist in Hongdae talk him into two piercings in one night. The tongue stud had healed fine. The nipple ring had not. He’d taken it out after a week of wincing every time his shirt brushed against it, and then, like most impulsive decisions, buried it under layers of denial and time.

Yoongi’s fingers paused where they’d been working open the buttons of Sin’s shirt. “Wait,” he murmured against Sin’s lips, voice rough in a way that made Sin’s stomach flip. “What—” His thumb brushed over Sin’s left nipple, where a tiny, stubborn bump of scar tissue sat. Sin froze.

“Oh,” Sin said, very intelligently.

Yoongi's gaze flickered down to where his thumb still rested against the raised scar—barely noticeable unless you knew where to look, unless your fingers were tracing skin this intimately. His dark eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, softened with something unreadable. "You," he murmured, voice dropping into that low register Sin had only heard in his songs before tonight, "had a nipple piercing?"

Sin's flush burned hotter than the studio lights he'd once performed under. "I—forgot," he admitted, the words stumbling out like a confession. His tongue darted out to wet his lips—a nervous habit—and the movement caught Yoongi's attention immediately.

The older man's grip tightened imperceptibly on Sin's waist. "Let me see," he said, not a question.

Sin hesitated, then parted his lips just enough for the tip of his tongue to peek through—and there it was, the faintest glint of metal catching the dim bedroom light. The barbell was small, tasteful, almost invisible unless you were looking for it. Yoongi exhaled sharply through his nose.

Yoongi’s thumb circled the scar again, slow and deliberate, like he was mapping the ghost of something long abandoned. Sin shivered, the touch sparking a memory—the sting of the needle, the artist’s hands steadying him, the way he’d bitten his own tongue to keep from yelping. He hadn’t thought about it in years, hadn’t even remembered the metal still nestled in his mouth until Yoongi’s tongue had brushed against it moments ago.

“Forgot,” Yoongi repeated, incredulous. His voice was sandpaper-soft, the kind of tone that made Sin’s pulse stutter. “You forgot you had metal in your mouth.”

Sin’s laugh was breathless, nervous. “It’s been there since I was sixteen. I just—stopped noticing it.”

Yoongi’s gaze flicked back up to Sin’s face, something molten and amused simmering beneath his usual cool detachment. “Cute,” he murmured, and then his fingers were back at Sin’s shirt, pushing the fabric aside to reveal the pale expanse of his chest. The scar was barely there, a whisper of raised skin, but Yoongi bent his head and pressed his mouth to it anyway, tongue swiping over the spot with a reverence that made Sin’s knees weak.

The moment Yoongi’s lips made contact with the scar, Sin’s entire body arched off the bed like a live wire had been pressed to his spine. It wasn’t pain—no, the sensation was something else entirely, a sharp, electric sweetness that radiated outward from the point of contact, as if Yoongi’s mouth had somehow rewired the dormant nerves there. Sin gasped, fingers tangling in the sheets, and Yoongi chuckled against his skin, the vibrations sending another shudder through him.

"You’re sensitive here," Yoongi murmured, not pulling away, his breath hot against Sin’s chest. His tongue traced the scar again, slower this time, deliberate, and Sin whimpered, hips jerking involuntarily. The sound seemed to ignite something in Yoongi—his hands, previously gentle, tightened on Sin’s waist, pinning him to the mattress as his mouth grew more insistent. Sin could feel the scrape of teeth, the wet drag of Yoongi’s tongue, and then—oh—the sudden, unexpected suction that made his vision blur at the edges.

"Hyung," Sin choked out, voice cracking. His fingers found Yoongi’s hair, gripping blindly, and Yoongi hummed in response, the sound reverberating through Sin’s ribs. When he finally pulled back, Sin’s chest was heaving, his skin flushed and damp where Yoongi’s mouth had been. The older man studied him with heavy-lidded eyes, his thumb brushing over the now-reddened scar. "Still forgot?" he asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Sin could only nod, dazed, his body thrumming with the aftershocks. Yoongi’s smirk deepened, and then he was leaning in again, but this time his mouth found Sin’s instead, his tongue sliding against the barbell with purpose. The metal clicked against Yoongi’s teeth, a tiny, audible sound that sent a jolt through Sin’s stomach. He’d forgotten about the piercing, yes, but he’d never forgotten how it felt when someone else discovered it—the way partners would pause, surprised, then press closer, chasing the novelty of it. But Yoongi didn’t just chase it; he mapped it, his tongue tracing the barbell with a focus that bordered on obsessive, as if he were trying to memorize the shape of it.

Sin’s breath hitched when Yoongi’s teeth grazed the barbell, the sharp click of metal against enamel sending a shockwave of heat straight to his groin. He arched up instinctively, hips lifting off the mattress, only for Yoongi’s palm to press him back down with effortless control. The weight of Yoongi’s body over him—solid, warm, unyielding—was intoxicating. Sin had imagined this moment a hundred times, but none of his fantasies had included the way Youngi’s curiosity burned so bright, so hungry, as if Sin’s body were a puzzle he needed to solve with his mouth.

Yoongi pulled back just enough to speak, his lips brushing Sin’s with each word. “How many people,” he murmured, voice thick, “knew about this before me?” His thumb swept over Sin’s lower lip, tugging it down slightly to expose the glint of metal again. The possessiveness in the question shouldn’t have thrilled Sin as much as it did.

“No one,” Sin admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I mean—no one who mattered.” He felt Yoongi’s breath stutter against his mouth, saw the way his pupils dilated, black swallowing amber. It was the right answer—maybe the only answer—because Yoongi kissed him again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against the barbell with a reverence that made Sin’s toes curl.

The bed creaked as Yoongi shifted, one knee slotting between Sin’s thighs, and Sin gasped into his mouth at the sudden pressure. Yoongi took advantage of the parted lips to explore further, his tongue tracing the roof of Sin’s mouth, the underside of the barbell, the sensitive spot just behind his teeth. Every flick, every suck, was calculated, like Yoongi was cataloging Sin’s reactions, filing them away for later. Sin’s hands scrabbled at Yoongi’s shoulders, nails biting into fabric, but Yoongi didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he just didn’t care, too focused on the way Sin shuddered when he bit down gently on the barbell.

The click of metal against teeth was louder this time, deliberate, and Sin whimpered when Yoongi’s fingers tightened in his hair, tilting his head back to expose the column of his throat. “Hyung—” he tried, but the word dissolved into a gasp as Yoongi’s mouth left his, trailing wet kisses down his neck instead. The cold air against his spit-slick lips made him shiver, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Yoongi’s tongue tracing the hollow of his throat, the scrape of teeth over his pulse point.

Sin’s hips jerked when Yoongi’s knee pressed harder between his thighs, the friction sending sparks up his spine. He could feel himself hardening, the fabric of his jeans suddenly too tight, too rough, but Yoongi’s hands were already moving, sliding under his shirt to push it up over his ribs. The cool air hit his overheated skin, raising goosebumps, but Yoongi’s palms were warmer, calloused fingers skimming over his sides, his stomach, pausing just below his sternum. “Still sensitive here too?” Yoongi murmured, thumb brushing the underside of his ribs, and Sin squirmed, biting his lip to stifle a laugh.

Yoongi’s smirk was devilish. “Ticklish,” he corrected, and before Sin could protest, those clever fingers were skating up his sides, light as a feather, and Sin arched off the bed with a breathless giggle, twisting to escape. Yoongi pinned him easily, one thigh thrown over Sin’s hips, his weight just enough to keep him in place. “Cute,” he repeated, bending to nip at Sin’s collarbone, and Sin’s laughter melted into a moan when Yoongi’s teeth grazed the spot just above his left nipple—not quite the scar, but close enough to make his breath catch.

The older man’s mouth was relentless, mapping every inch of Sin’s chest with a precision that bordered on worship. When his tongue flicked over the hardened bud of Sin’s nipple, Sin’s back bowed off the mattress, a broken noise tearing from his throat. Yoongi hummed approvingly, sucking lightly, then harder, until Sin was writhing beneath him, fingers tangled in the sheets. “Hyung, please—” he gasped, and Yoongi pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, lips glistening.

Sin’s plea hung between them, raw and unfiltered, but Yoongi didn’t move. Instead, he studied Sin’s face—the way his cerulean eyes had gone glassy, the beauty mark beneath his left eye almost lost in the flush spreading across his cheeks. Yoongi’s thumb traced the edge of Sin’s parted lips, catching on the barbell again, and Sin’s breath hitched. “Please what?” Yoongi asked, voice low, teasing. He knew. Of course he knew. But he wanted to hear it, wanted Sin to say it, to break that last shred of hesitation clinging to his trembling limbs.

Sin swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing against Yoongi’s palm where it had settled against his throat. Not squeezing—just resting, a silent reminder of control. “Touch me,” Sin whispered, the words barely audible, but Yoongi’s sharp intake of breath was answer enough. His fingers flexed against Sin’s jaw, tilting his chin up further, exposing the vulnerable line of his throat.

“Where?” Yoongi murmured, his free hand drifting down Sin’s chest, skimming over his ribs, his stomach, hovering just above the waistband of his jeans. Sin’s hips jerked involuntarily, chasing the ghost of contact, and Yoongi’s lips curled into a smirk. “Here?” His fingertips dipped beneath the fabric, brushing the sensitive skin just above Sin’s hipbone, and Sin whimpered, nails digging into Yoongi’s biceps.

The older man’s smirk deepened as he leaned in, his breath hot against Sin’s ear. “Or here?” His hand slid lower, palming Sin through his jeans, and Sin’s back arched off the mattress with a choked moan. The fabric was rough, unforgiving, and Yoongi’s touch was just shy of enough—teasing, maddening. Sin’s hips bucked again, desperate for more pressure, but Yoongi held him down effortlessly, his grip firm. “Patience,” he chided, nipping at Sin’s earlobe. “You waited this long. What’s a few more minutes?”

Sin’s breath came in ragged gasps, his body taut as a bowstring beneath Yoongi’s touch. The older man’s fingers lingered just above the button of his jeans, teasing, maddening, and Sin’s hips jerked again, chasing friction that never quite came. "Yoongi," he whined, the name slipping out unbidden, raw with need. The sound seemed to ignite something in Yoongi—his dark eyes flashed, and then his mouth was on Sin’s again, swallowing his moans as his fingers finally, finally popped the button open.

The zipper slid down with a whisper of fabric, and Sin’s breath hitched when Yoongi’s hand slipped beneath the waistband of his boxers, calloused fingers brushing against the heated skin of his stomach. Yoongi pulled back just enough to watch Sin’s face as his fingers traced lower, lower—then wrapped around him, slow and deliberate. Sin’s head thumped back against the pillows, a broken noise tearing from his throat as Yoongi’s thumb swiped over the head of his cock, smearing the moisture there. "Fuck," he gasped, hips lifting off the mattress, but Yoongi’s grip tightened, holding him in place.

"Look at you," Yoongi murmured, his voice rough with want. His thumb circled the head again, slow, torturous, and Sin’s fingers twisted in the sheets, his toes curling. "All worked up over a little metal." He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of Sin’s ear. "Imagine how you’ll feel when I fuck you with it."

Sin’s eyes flew open, his breath stuttering. What? But Yoongi was already moving, his mouth trailing down Sin’s throat, his chest, his stomach—lower, until his breath was hot against Sin’s cock. Sin’s hips jerked instinctively, but Yoongi’s hands pinned him down, his grip unyielding. "Stay still," he ordered, and Sin whimpered, his entire body trembling with the effort to obey.

Sin's breath hitched when Yoongi's tongue flicked against the head of his cock—just once, feather-light, before the older man pulled back with a smirk that made Sin's stomach flip. "Hyung," he whined, fingers tightening in Yoongi's hair, but Yoongi ignored him, his thumb tracing the vein on the underside instead. The touch was maddening, deliberate, and Sin's hips twitched involuntarily, chasing friction that wasn't there.

Yoongi's chuckle was low, vibrating against Sin's thigh where his lips had migrated, nipping at the sensitive skin. "I told you to stay still," he murmured, and the warning in his voice sent a shiver down Sin's spine. His grip on Yoongi's hair slackened, fingers trembling as he forced himself to relax against the mattress. The older man hummed approvingly, his breath hot against Sin's inner thigh, and then—finally—his mouth was on him again, wet and warm and perfect.

Sin's back arched off the bed, a strangled moan tearing from his throat as Yoongi's tongue swirled around the head before sinking down, taking him deeper. The heat was overwhelming, the suction relentless, and Sin's vision blurred at the edges, his toes curling into the sheets. Yoongi's hands pinned his hips down, holding him in place as he worked him over with his mouth, alternating between slow, torturous sucks and quick, teasing flicks of his tongue.

The barbell in Sin's mouth clicked against his teeth when he bit down on a moan, the sound sharp in the quiet room. Yoongi's eyes flicked up at the noise, dark and heavy-lidded, and then—fuck—he hollowed his cheeks, sucking harder, and Sin's fingers scrambled for purchase against the sheets. "I—I'm gonna—" he gasped, but Yoongi pulled off with a wet pop before he could finish, leaving him trembling on the edge.

Yoongi’s lips glistened in the dim light as he dragged his tongue along the underside of Sin’s cock, slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving Sin’s face. "Not yet," he murmured, the words vibrating against overheated skin. His thumb pressed into the divot of Sin’s hipbone, grounding him, and Sin whimpered, his entire body thrumming with denied release.

The older man shifted, his knees pressing into the mattress as he crawled up Sin’s body, his weight settling between Sin’s thighs. His fingers traced the barbell again, tugging at Sin’s lower lip with a possessiveness that made Sin’s breath catch. "You taste good," Yoongi mused, voice rough, and Sin’s stomach flipped at the raw hunger in his gaze.

Then Yoongi’s mouth was on his again, hot and insistent, his tongue sliding against the metal with a focus that bordered on obsessive. Sin moaned into the kiss, his hands finding Yoongi’s waist, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. He could feel the hard line of Yoongi’s cock pressing against his thigh, and the realization sent a fresh wave of heat through him.

Yoongi pulled back just enough to speak, his breath uneven. "Turn over," he murmured, and Sin’s pulse stuttered at the command. He hesitated for a fraction of a second—long enough for Yoongi’s thumb to brush over his cheekbone, gentle despite the hunger in his eyes. "Trust me," he added, softer now, and Sin nodded, swallowing hard as he rolled onto his stomach.

Sin’s knees sank into the mattress as he repositioned himself, fingers clutching at the crumpled sheets beneath him. The air against his exposed back was cool, but Yoongi’s gaze burned hotter than any touch. He felt the dip of the bed as Yoongi moved behind him, hands settling on his hips with a possessiveness that made his breath hitch. "Lift," Yoongi murmured, and Sin obeyed without thought, arching his back just enough for Yoongi to tug his jeans and boxers down in one slow, deliberate motion. The fabric caught at his thighs, leaving him half-bare, vulnerable, and he shivered when Yoongi’s fingers traced the curve of his ass.

"Fuck," Yoongi breathed, the word rough with want, and Sin’s cheeks burned at the reverence in his voice. Then—warmth. Yoongi’s mouth pressed against the small of his back, lips trailing lower, lower, until his tongue swiped over the sensitive skin just above the crease of Sin’s thigh. Sin jerked, a whimper escaping him, and Yoongi’s hands tightened on his hips, holding him still. "Told you to stay put," he chided, but there was no real admonishment in his tone—just heat, thick and heady.

Sin buried his face in the pillows as Yoongi’s tongue traced lower, teasing at the rim before pulling away just as quickly. The groan that tore from Sin’s throat was muffled by the fabric, his fingers twisting in the sheets. "Hyung—please—" The plea was ragged, desperate, and Yoongi answered with a sharp nip to the curve of Sin’s ass, eliciting a yelp.

"Patience," Yoongi murmured, but his own breath was uneven, fingers digging into Sin’s skin as he spread him wider. The first lick was slow, deliberate, and Sin’s entire body tensed, his toes curling. Yoongi hummed against him, the vibrations sending shocks up his spine, and then his tongue pressed deeper, wet and insistent. Sin’s hips jerked forward instinctively, but Yoongi’s grip was ironclad, holding him in place as he worked him open with his mouth.

Sin’s fingers twisted in the sheets until the fabric threatened to tear, his entire body taut as Yoongi’s tongue pressed deeper, relentless. The wet heat was maddening—too much and not enough—and when Yoongi’s fingers joined, pressing in alongside his tongue, Sin’s back arched violently. "Fuck—fuck—" he gasped, his voice cracking on the second syllable as Yoongi crooked his fingers just right, brushing that spot that sent white-hot sparks behind Sin’s eyelids.

Yoongi pulled back with a wet sound, his breath ragged against Sin’s thigh. "Look at you," he murmured, dragging his thumb over Sin’s trembling lower back. "Taking me so well already." The praise sent a fresh wave of heat through Sin’s veins, his cock twitching against the mattress. He could feel Yoongi shifting behind him, the rustle of clothing, the click of a cap—then the cold slick of lube against his overheated skin. Sin flinched at the sudden chill, but Yoongi’s palm smoothed over his spine, soothing. "Easy," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the dimple above Sin’s tailbone. "Just breathe."

Sin sucked in a shuddering breath as Yoongi’s fingers returned, slower this time, working him open with a patience that bordered on torture. Each press, each curl of his fingers, was calculated, drawing out whimpers Sin couldn’t suppress. When a third finger joined, Sin’s hips jerked back instinctively, seeking more, needing more—but Yoongi held him steady, his free hand splayed across the small of Sin’s back. "Not yet," he chided, though his voice was rough with want. "Gonna make sure you can take me." His fingers scissored, stretching, and Sin’s moan was muffled by the pillow he’d buried his face in.

The stretch burned—just enough to make Sin’s toes curl—but the moment Yoongi’s fingers brushed his prostate again, the discomfort melted into liquid heat. "Hyung—please—" Sin choked out, his hips canting back shamelessly. Yoongi’s answering groan was raw, his fingers slipping free with a filthy sound. Sin whined at the loss, but then Yoongi’s hands were on him, flipping him onto his back with surprising gentleness. The older man loomed over him, his dark eyes raking over Sin’s flushed chest, his parted lips, the way his cock lay heavy against his stomach.

Yoongi's thumb pressed against Sin's lower lip again, hooking the barbell with a deliberate tug that made Sin's breath hitch. "Still think you forgot?" he murmured, voice rough as gravel. Before Sin could answer, Yoongi leaned down, his mouth hovering just above Sin's—close enough to share breath, but not touching. "Tell me what you want."

Sin's throat worked around nothing, his pulse rabbiting beneath his skin. He'd never been good with words, not like this, not when Yoongi's weight pinned him to the mattress and his scent—warm spice and something uniquely Yoongi—filled his lungs. Instead, he arched up, chasing Yoongi's mouth with a whimper, but the older man pulled back just enough to deny him.

"Say it," Yoongi insisted, his fingers tightening in Sin's hair.

"Y-you," Sin stammered, his hips twitching upward of their own accord. "Want you—inside—" The words dissolved into a gasp as Yoongi's free hand wrapped around his cock, giving him one slow, torturous stroke that left his vision whiting out at the edges.

Yoongi’s breath hitched—a sharp, jagged sound—before he surged forward, crushing their mouths together in a kiss that tasted like desperation. Sin gasped into it, his fingers scrambling at Yoongi’s shoulders as the older man finally, finally lined up and pushed in. The stretch was unbearable for a heartbeat, then two, before melting into a fullness that punched the air from Sin’s lungs. Yoongi didn’t move, his forehead pressed to Sin’s, their breaths mingling in the scant space between them.

“Fuck,” Yoongi gritted out, his voice wrecked. His fingers trembled where they gripped Sin’s hips, his knuckles white with the effort to hold still. “You feel—” He broke off with a groan when Sin rolled his hips experimentally, the motion sending sparks up his spine.

Sin’s laugh was breathless, shaky. “Move,” he pleaded, nails digging into Yoongi’s biceps.

Yoongi obeyed with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips that had Sin’s back arching off the mattress. The pace was maddening—just shy of enough—but every drag of Yoongi’s cock inside him was calculated to wring another broken sound from Sin’s throat. When Yoongi’s thumb brushed over the barbell again, Sin’s hips jerked instinctively, his body clenching around him.

The moment Yoongi’s hips snapped forward, Sin’s vision whited out. The older man’s rhythm was relentless—deep, punishing strokes that had Sin clawing at the sheets, his back arching off the mattress with every thrust. The barbell in his mouth clicked against his teeth with each ragged gasp, the sound drowned out by the wet slap of skin against skin. Yoongi’s fingers dug into the meat of Sin’s thighs, holding him open, his thumbs pressing bruises into pale skin as he fucked into him with a single-minded focus that left Sin boneless.

“Look at you,” Yoongi growled, his voice rough as gravel. His thumb swiped over Sin’s lower lip, tugging it down to expose the glint of metal. “Taking me so well.” The praise sent a fresh wave of heat through Sin’s veins, his cock twitching against his stomach. Yoongi’s gaze darkened, his hips stuttering for a fraction of a second before he redoubled his efforts, his pace turning brutal.

Sin’s breath came in punched-out gasps, his fingers scrabbling for purchase against Yoongi’s sweat-slick shoulders. The older man’s name spilled from his lips in a broken litany, each syllable mangled by the barbell as Yoongi angled his hips just right, hitting that spot that made Sin’s toes curl. “Fuck—fuck—hyung, I’m—” The warning was ragged, barely coherent, but Yoongi understood, his hand wrapping around Sin’s cock in time to catch the first pulse of his release.

The orgasm ripped through Sin like a live wire, his body seizing as white-hot pleasure crackled up his spine. He arched off the bed with a soundless cry, his nails biting into Yoongi’s skin as the older man chased his own release, his rhythm faltering as he fucked Sin through the aftershocks. One final, sharp thrust and Yoongi stilled, his breath hitching as he spilled inside Sin with a groan that sounded like it had been torn from his chest.

The air smelled like salt and sweat and something darker, something Yoongi couldn’t name but tasted anyway when he licked the line of Sin’s throat. Sin’s pulse fluttered beneath his tongue, frantic as a bird trapped in a cage, and Yoongi lingered there, pressing lazy kisses to the damp skin until Sin’s breathing evened out.

Sin’s fingers, still tangled in Yoongi’s hair, trembled slightly as he carded them through the dark strands. His other hand traced idle patterns on Yoongi’s bare shoulder—circles, figure-eights, the occasional swooping curve that made Yoongi shiver. The touch was absentminded, the way Sin touched everything when he wasn’t thinking—like he needed to reassure himself the world was still solid.

Yoongi shifted just enough to see Sin’s face—the way his lashes fanned over his flushed cheeks, the beauty mark beneath his left eye almost lost in the pink spread of his skin. His lips were kiss-swollen, slightly parted, and when Yoongi’s thumb brushed the barbell again, Sin’s tongue darted out instinctively, wetting the metal. The movement was unconscious, but Yoongi’s stomach tightened anyway.

“Still sensitive,” Yoongi murmured, more to himself than to Sin, but Sin heard it anyway—his cerulean eyes flickered open, hazy with exhaustion and something softer, something Yoongi wasn’t ready to name.

JUNG HOSEOK

"You're kidding me," Hoseok breathed, fingers still tangled in Sin's hair where he'd just yanked him closer. His pulse hammered against Sin's collarbone, messy and uneven. The dorm was quiet except for the hum of the air conditioner and the occasional creak of someone shifting in their room down the hall. Sin blinked up at him, lips slightly parted—still pink and swollen from kissing—and Hoseok couldn’t help but stare at the flash of metal nestled against the tip of his tongue.

Sin frowned, pulling back just enough to murmur, "What?" His voice was soft, sleep-rough, like he hadn’t spoken in hours. Which, technically, he hadn’t—not since Hoseok had dragged him into the kitchen under the pretense of needing help with a chore and then promptly pinned him against the fridge.

Hoseok tapped Sin’s bottom lip with his thumb, nudging until Sin obediently stuck his tongue out again. There it was—a tiny silver barbell, barely noticeable unless the light caught it just right. Which, right now, it did. "Since when do you have a tongue piercing?"

Sin’s brows knitted together. He looked genuinely confused, like Hoseok had just asked him to recite pi to the twentieth digit. "I… don’t?"

Hoseok let out a disbelieving laugh, thumb still hooked against Sin's lower lip. The silver glint of the barbell taunted him—impossible, but there. "Sin. Baby. That's definitely a tongue piercing." He leaned in, close enough to feel Sin's startled exhale against his mouth. "And unless you've been sleepwalking to a tattoo parlor, you know about this."

Sin blinked rapidly, lashes fluttering like moth wings. His fingers curled into Hoseok's shirt—not pushing away, just clinging. "I—maybe when I was younger? But I don't remember—" His voice hitched when Hoseok's hand slid down, skating over the thin fabric of his sleep shirt.

Hoseok's fingers found the raised bud of Sin's nipple through the cotton, and—there. The unmistakable bump of metal beneath. "Oh my god," Hoseok breathed, grinning now. "You absolutely have a nipple piercing too."

Sin made a noise like a stepped-on kitten. "That's—that can't—"

Hoseok's grin widened as he hooked a finger into the collar of Sin's shirt, tugging it down just enough to expose the smooth plane of his chest. There, peeking through the fabric—tiny, silver, and utterly undeniable—was the glint of a curved barbell nestled against Sin's left nipple. The metal caught the dim kitchen light, winking up at Hoseok like a shared secret.

Sin's breath hitched. "I—I swear I don’t remember getting these," he stammered, cheeks flushing pink. His fingers twitched against Hoseok's waist, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. "Maybe—maybe it was during that summer I got really drunk? Or—" His voice dissolved into a gasp as Hoseok’s thumb brushed over the piercing, slow and deliberate.

"Oh, this is definitely healed," Hoseok murmured, leaning in until his lips grazed Sin's ear. "Which means you’ve had it for years, baby. How do you forget something like this?" He nipped at Sin's earlobe, delighting in the way Sin shuddered against him.

Sin whined, high and flustered. "I don’t know! It’s not like I go around checking my—my nipples for metal!" His voice cracked on the last word, and Hoseok laughed, warm and low, pressing closer until Sin was pinned between him and the fridge again.

Hoseok’s laughter vibrated against Sin’s throat, his fingers still tracing the outline of the forgotten piercing through the thin fabric. “You’re seriously telling me,” he murmured, voice dipping into something low and amused, “that you’ve been walking around for years with metal in your tongue and your nipple, and you just… never noticed?” His thumb pressed down, just enough to make Sin gasp, the metal cool against his skin. “Not once? Not even when you showered? Changed clothes? Touched yourself?”

Sin’s face burned. “I—I don’t—” His words tangled in his throat, half-formed and useless. Because the truth was, he hadn’t noticed. Not the way his tongue sometimes caught on his teeth differently, not the way his nipples were more sensitive than he’d ever questioned. It was like discovering a freckle he’d never seen before—except this freckle was metal, and Hoseok was looking at him like he’d just unearthed the funniest secret in the world.

Hoseok’s grin was wicked. “This is gold,” he declared, tugging Sin’s shirt down further until the barbell glinted in full view. “Wait until the others hear about—”

“No,” Sin yelped, hands flying up to clamp over Hoseok’s mouth. The thought of anyone else knowing—especially Namjoon with his raised eyebrows, or Jimin with his knowing smirks—made his stomach flip. “You can’t—you can’t tell them.”

Hoseok's laughter vibrated against Sin's palm where it still pressed over his mouth. He nipped playfully at Sin's fingertips, grinning when the younger boy yanked his hand back with a startled noise. "Oh, come on," Hoseok teased, catching Sin's wrist before he could retreat entirely. His thumb traced idle circles over the delicate bones there, feeling the rabbit-quick pulse beneath. "You can't just drop this on me and expect me to keep quiet." He leaned in, close enough that his breath ghosted over Sin's lips. "Do you know how rare it is to find someone who forgets their own piercings? This is like—" He paused, eyes flickering with mischief. "Like discovering a unicorn."

Sin groaned, tipping his forehead against Hoseok's shoulder. "It's embarrassing," he mumbled into the fabric of Hoseok's shirt. His ears burned pink, the color creeping down his neck in uneven splotches. The metal in his nipple felt suddenly heavy, like it had tripled in weight the moment Hoseok pointed it out. "And—and what if it means something?" The words tumbled out before he could stop them, half-hysterical. "What if I got drunk and made some kind of pact? What if I sold my soul for these and just don't remember—"

Hoseok's shoulders shook with silent laughter, his fingers threading through Sin's messy white hair. "Baby," he murmured, voice thick with amusement, "if you sold your soul, I promise you'd have cooler piercings." He tugged gently, tilting Sin's face up until their eyes met. "Maybe a septum ring. Or, like, dermal anchors."

Sin's nose scrunched. "No."

Hoseok grinned, pressing Sin back against the fridge with a soft thud. "You're adorable when you panic," he murmured, thumb tracing the curve of Sin's jaw. His other hand slipped beneath the hem of Sin's shirt, fingertips skating over the warm skin of his waist, inching higher until they brushed the raised metal again. Sin sucked in a sharp breath, hips jerking forward involuntarily. "See?" Hoseok teased, voice dropping to a whisper. "Your body remembers even if your brain doesn't."

Sin's pulse fluttered under Hoseok's touch like a trapped bird. "That's—that's not fair," he stammered, but the protest died in his throat when Hoseok's fingers tightened around the barbell, giving it the gentlest twist. A strangled noise escaped him, knees buckling slightly.

Hoseok caught him effortlessly, slotting a thigh between Sin's legs to steady him. "Oh, wow," he breathed, delighted. "You're ridiculously sensitive." His free hand slid up to cradle the back of Sin's neck, holding him close as he ducked his head to press a kiss just below his ear. "Bet you didn't forget this part, huh?" His teeth scraped over Sin's pulse point, and Sin whimpered, fingers clutching at Hoseok's sleeves.

The kitchen light flickered—probably Yoongi messing with the breaker again—casting jagged shadows across the walls. Somewhere down the hall, a door creaked open, followed by the sound of shuffling footsteps. Sin froze, panic flashing across his face. "Hobi—someone's—"

Hoseok’s grip tightened instinctively, pulling Sin flush against him as the footsteps grew louder—then paused. A yawn echoed from the hallway, followed by the unmistakable sound of the fridge in the living room cracking open. Jungkook. Hoseok mouthed the name against Sin’s temple, feeling the younger boy’s relieved exhale against his collarbone.

“We’re fine,” Hoseok whispered, fingers still tangled in Sin’s shirt. His thumb brushed over the piercing again, just to feel Sin shudder. “He’s half-asleep. Probably just grabbing water before—” The fridge door slammed shut with a thud, and Sin flinched so hard his teeth clacked against the barbell in his tongue. Hoseok bit back a laugh. “See? Gone.”

Sin’s shoulders slumped, but the tension didn’t leave his body. His fingers twisted in Hoseok’s shirt, knuckles white. “What if he heard us?”

Hoseok snorted. “Baby, the only thing he heard was his own stomach growling.” He leaned in, nudging Sin’s nose with his own. “And even if he did—” His voice dropped, conspiratorial. “He’d just assume I was bullying you again.”

Sin's breath hitched when Hoseok's fingers tightened around the barbell again, tugging just enough to make his knees wobble. "You're impossible," he hissed, voice cracking as Hoseok grinned against his throat. The kitchen was too bright suddenly, the overhead light reflecting off the fridge door behind him—too exposed, too visible if anyone else wandered in. "Can we—please—go somewhere—"

Hoseok nipped at his jaw. "Somewhere what?"

"Private," Sin whispered, mortified, as Hoseok's thumb circled the piercing again.

Hoseok laughed, low and warm, but relented, stepping back just enough to grab Sin's wrist. "Fine, fine," he conceded, tugging him toward the hallway. "But only because you asked so nicely."

The hallway stretched dark and silent ahead of them, shadows pooling in the corners where the overhead lights didn’t quite reach. Hoseok’s grip on Sin’s wrist was warm and unyielding, his fingers occasionally tracing idle patterns against the delicate skin there—just to feel Sin shiver. The metal of Sin’s tongue piercing clicked softly against his teeth as he swallowed, loud in the quiet.

Halfway to Hoseok’s room, Sin dug his heels in, suddenly hyperaware of the way his own heartbeat thudded against his ribs. “Wait—what if someone—”

Hoseok didn’t pause, just twisted to press Sin against the wall in one smooth motion, his free hand braced beside Sin’s head. “What if someone what?” he murmured, lips brushing Sin’s ear. His knee nudged between Sin’s thighs, pressing just enough to make Sin gasp. “Hear you moaning? See you squirming?” His teeth grazed Sin’s earlobe. “Bet you’d forget all about them the second I got my mouth on you.”

Sin’s breath hitched, his fingers scrabbling at Hoseok’s shoulders. The barbell in his tongue felt suddenly heavy, like it was dragging his words back down his throat. “You’re—insane—”

Sin barely had time to register the creak of Namjoon’s bedroom door down the hall before Hoseok yanked him sideways into the nearest room—Jimin and Taehyung’s, judging by the faint scent of vanilla body spray and the pile of laundry strewn across the floor. The door clicked shut behind them, plunging them into near-darkness save for the blue glow of Taehyung’s gaming PC left on standby.

Hoseok didn’t give him a second to breathe. He crowded Sin back against the door, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of his head before it could thump against the wood. “Quiet,” he mouthed against Sin’s lips, grinning when the barbell in Sin’s tongue clicked nervously against his teeth. Outside, Namjoon’s footsteps paused—listening—and Sin’s entire body went rigid.

Then the footsteps moved on, fading down the hallway toward the kitchen.

Sin exhaled shakily, only for Hoseok to swallow the sound with a kiss, deep and filthy, his tongue sliding deliberately against the metal in Sin’s mouth. The sensation was electric—foreign and familiar all at once—and Sin whimpered, fingers twisting in Hoseok’s shirt.

The moment Namjoon’s footsteps disappeared, Hoseok’s hands were everywhere—tangling in Sin’s hair, skimming down his ribs, hooking into the waistband of his sleep pants like he couldn’t decide where to touch first. Sin gasped into the kiss, the barbell in his tongue clinking against Hoseok’s teeth in a way that sent heat pooling low in his stomach.

“Fuck,” Hoseok breathed, breaking away just long enough to yank Sin’s shirt over his head. The fabric caught on his elbows for a heartbeat before Hoseok impatiently tugged it free, letting it drop to the floor in a forgotten heap. The dim blue light from Taehyung’s PC glinted off the silver in Sin’s nipple, drawing Hoseok’s gaze like a magnet. “I need to see—”

His thumb brushed the barbell, and Sin arched off the door with a bitten-off whimper, his hips jerking forward uncontrollably. Hoseok’s grin was predatory. “Oh, you like that,” he murmured, twisting the metal just enough to make Sin’s thighs tremble. “Bet you’d come just from this, huh?”

Sin’s protest died in his throat when Hoseok ducked his head, tongue swiping over the piercing in one slow, deliberate stroke. The sensation was electric—hot and wet and too much—and Sin’s knees gave out entirely. Hoseok caught him effortlessly, pressing him harder against the door as he mouthed at the sensitive bud, teeth grazing the metal in a way that had Sin seeing stars.

The door rattled slightly against Sin’s back when his head thumped against it, the sound too loud in the quiet room. Hoseok didn’t seem to care—his mouth was relentless, alternating between slow, wet drags of his tongue and sharp nips that sent jolts of pleasure-pain straight to Sin’s groin. Every time the barbell clicked against Hoseok’s teeth, Sin’s hips twitched forward, seeking friction against the firm line of Hoseok’s thigh.

"Hobi—" Sin gasped, fingers scrambling for purchase in Hoseok’s hair, tugging weakly when the older boy bit down just hard enough to make his vision blur. "I—I can’t—" His voice cracked, high and desperate, as Hoseok’s free hand slid down to palm him through his sleep pants, fingers curling just shy of where Sin needed them most.

Hoseok pulled back just enough to smirk up at him, lips glistening. "Can’t what?" he teased, pressing his thumb in slow circles over the metal. Sin’s breath hitched, his thighs trembling. "Can’t remember your piercings? Can’t think?" He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of Sin’s ear. "Or can’t stop yourself from coming like this?"

Sin’s answering whine was muffled against Hoseok’s shoulder as the older boy finally—finally—slipped his hand beneath the waistband of Sin’s pants, fingers wrapping around him in one smooth motion. The shock of contact tore a ragged noise from Sin’s throat, his hips stuttering forward into the touch. Hoseok’s grip was firm, his thumb swiping over the head of Sin’s cock in a way that made his knees buckle.

Sin’s gasp lodged in his throat when Hoseok’s fingers tightened around him, the pad of his thumb catching just under the head with a twist that made his vision fuzz at the edges. The barbell in his nipple caught the dim blue light as his chest heaved, metal gleaming like a beacon in the dark—something Hoseok couldn’t resist leaning down to flick with his tongue again. The sharp sting of pleasure-pain shot straight to Sin’s groin, and he bit down hard on his own tongue, the barbell there clicking against his teeth.

“Fuck,” Hoseok breathed against his skin, grinning when Sin’s hips jerked helplessly into his hand. “You’re so—responsive.” His thumb swiped over the slit of Sin’s cock, smearing the wetness there in slow circles that had Sin’s toes curling against the hardwood. “Bet you didn’t forget this part either.” His grip tightened just shy of painful, and Sin whined, high and punched-out, his fingers scrambling for purchase against Hoseok’s shoulders.

The door behind them creaked—just the old building settling, probably—but Sin froze anyway, his breath hitching. Hoseok didn’t pause. “No one’s coming,” he murmured, lips trailing up the column of Sin’s throat. His fingers never stopped moving, strokes slow and maddening, twisting just so on the upstroke. “Not unless you want them to hear—” He nipped at Sin’s jaw. “—how pretty you sound when you’re about to come.”

Sin choked on a moan, hips stuttering forward. The friction was too much and not enough all at once, Hoseok’s hand relentless and his mouth hotter, teeth scraping over Sin’s pulse point like he wanted to mark him. The metal in his tongue felt like a live wire, sparking against his teeth every time his breath hitched—which was often, with the way Hoseok was touching him.

Sin’s back arched off the door with a shuddering gasp, his fingers digging into Hoseok’s shoulders hard enough to bruise. “H-Hobi—I’m—” The words splintered into a whine as Hoseok’s thumb pressed down on the underside of his cock, right where he was most sensitive. The barbell in his tongue clicked uselessly against his teeth, the sound lost under the wet slide of Hoseok’s hand and the ragged hitch of his own breathing.

Hoseok’s grin was molten against his throat. “Yeah?” he coaxed, twisting his wrist just so on the next upstroke. Sin’s hips jerked forward, chasing the friction, but Hoseok deliberately slowed his pace, dragging his thumb over the head in lazy circles. “You gonna come for me, baby? Just like this?” His free hand pinched the barbell in Sin’s nipple, giving it a sharp tug, and Sin wailed, his thighs trembling violently.

The orgasm ripped through him like a live wire—sudden and bright, lighting up every nerve ending from his toes to the crown of his head. His vision whited out for a heartbeat, his mouth falling open around a silent gasp as his cock pulsed in Hoseok’s hand, spilling over his fingers in hot, sticky stripes. Hoseok didn’t let up, milking him through it with slow, deliberate strokes until Sin was whimpering, oversensitive and twitching.

“Fuck,” Hoseok breathed, finally releasing him to swipe his thumb through the mess on Sin’s stomach. He brought it to his mouth, tongue darting out to taste, and Sin made a noise like he’d been punched, his cheeks flaming. “You’re delicious,” Hoseok murmured, leaning in to lick a slow stripe up Sin’s throat. “And so easy.” His teeth scraped over Sin’s jaw. “Bet you didn’t forget that either.”

Sin sagged against the door, his chest heaving like he'd just run a marathon. His legs felt like jelly, barely holding him up, and the cool wood against his bare back was the only thing keeping him from sliding to the floor. Hoseok's grin was all teeth in the dim blue light, his fingers still sticky where they traced idle patterns over Sin's hipbone. "You good?" he murmured, lips brushing the shell of Sin's ear.

Sin swallowed hard, the barbell in his tongue clicking against his teeth. "Y-yeah," he managed, voice wrecked. His fingers trembled where they clung to Hoseok's shoulders. "Just—just give me a second."

Hoseok laughed, low and warm, pressing closer until their foreheads touched. "Take your time," he teased, thumb sweeping over the jut of Sin's hip. "I'm not done with you yet." His free hand slid up to toy with the barbell in Sin's nipple again, twisting it just enough to make Sin gasp.

PARK JIMIN

Sin's tongue clicked absently against the roof of his mouth as he flipped through a magazine in the dorm’s dim kitchenette light. It was a habit he’d had for years—little metallic taps against his teeth that no one ever seemed to notice. Not even him, really. The sound was just… there, like the hum of the refrigerator or the distant murmur of Hoseok’s laughter from the living room.

Jimin leaned against the counter beside him, nursing a glass of water, watching the way Sin’s lips parted slightly as he read. “You’re quiet tonight,” Jimin said, nudging Sin’s shoulder with his own. The contact made Sin blink up at him, cerulean eyes catching the light like fractured glass.

“Mm?” Sin’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, as if he’d been pulled from some far-off thought. His pink lips curled into a shy smile. “Just tired, I guess.”

Jimin hummed, unconvinced. He’d noticed Sin’s fingers trembling earlier when he’d passed him a bowl of cherries during dessert—tiny, nervous twitches that didn’t match his usual calm. But before he could press further, Taehyung’s voice cut through the quiet, calling Jimin’s name from the other room.

Jimin barely remembered what Taehyung had wanted—something about a misplaced charger, maybe—because the moment he stepped back into the kitchen, Sin was already standing, magazine forgotten, his slender fingers gripping the edge of the counter like he was bracing for impact. His eyes flicked up, meeting Jimin’s, and there it was again: that tremor in his hands, the way his breath hitched just slightly when Jimin took a step closer.

“You’re not just tired,” Jimin murmured, reaching out to tuck a strand of Sin’s messy white hair behind his ear. The touch lingered, thumb brushing the beauty mark beneath his eye. Sin exhaled sharply, and Jimin felt it—the way his pulse jumped under his fingertips. “Tell me.”

Sin’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, and that’s when Jimin heard it: the faintest metallic click, so soft it could’ve been imagined. But Jimin didn’t imagine things like that. His grip tightened instinctively on Sin’s waist, pulling him closer. “What was that?”

Sin blinked, confused. “What was wh—?”

Jimin’s fingers stilled against Sin’s waist, his grip tightening just enough to make Sin’s breath hitch again. That sound—that tiny, metallic click—hadn’t been his imagination. He’d heard it when Sin’s tongue brushed his lips, a whisper of metal against teeth. Jimin’s gaze dropped to Sin’s mouth, studying the way his pink lips parted slightly in confusion. “Your tongue,” Jimin murmured, thumb brushing Sin’s lower lip. “There’s something there.”

Sin blinked, his cerulean eyes widening as if he’d just remembered something buried deep. “Oh,” he breathed, the word barely audible. His tongue darted out again, this time deliberately, and Jimin caught the glint of silver nestled against the muscle—a small, delicate barbell, nearly forgotten.

“You have a piercing,” Jimin said, more to himself than to Sin. His pulse kicked up, heat pooling low in his stomach. He’d never noticed it before, never heard that sound in all the times Sin had laughed or spoken or sighed around him. The realization sent a thrill through him—something secret, something Sin had carried without even knowing.

Sin’s cheeks flushed pink, his fingers twitching where they gripped the counter. “I—I forgot,” he admitted, voice soft. “I got it years ago, when I was… reckless. Or trying to be.” His laugh was shaky, self-conscious. “It healed weirdly. Doesn’t even feel like it’s there anymore.”

Jimin’s thumb traced Sin’s lower lip again, slower this time, his gaze locked onto the fleeting glint of metal when Sin’s tongue darted out nervously. “Reckless?” he echoed, voice low. The word curled around them like smoke, intimate in the quiet kitchen. “You?”

Sin let out a breathy laugh, but it dissolved into a gasp when Jimin’s fingers slid up his ribs, thumb brushing the edge of his shirt. “I had a phase,” Sin murmured, eyes fluttering shut for a second. “Just—just one summer. I don’t even remember the place that did it.”

Jimin hummed, pressing closer until Sin’s back met the fridge with a soft thud. He could feel the rapid flutter of Sin’s pulse beneath his fingertips, could see the way his chest rose and fell too fast. “Just the tongue?” Jimin asked, lips grazing Sin’s ear.

Sin shuddered. “No,” he admitted, so quiet Jimin almost missed it.

Jimin’s fingers stilled against Sin’s ribs, his breath hitching at the confession. "No?" he echoed, voice rougher than he intended. His thumb traced the hem of Sin’s shirt, dipping just beneath the fabric to brush warm skin. Sin’s breath stuttered, his cerulean eyes flickering with something unreadable—embarrassment, maybe, or the dawning realization that Jimin wasn’t going to let this go. "Where else?" Jimin pressed, lips grazing the shell of Sin’s ear.

Sin swallowed hard, his fingers twisting in the fabric of Jimin’s shirt. "I—" His voice cracked, and he tried again, softer. "My—my nipple. Just the left one." The admission came out in a rush, like he’d been holding it in too long. Jimin exhaled sharply, his grip tightening instinctively. He could picture it—delicate silver against pale skin, something hidden, something his to discover.

Before Sin could say another word, Jimin’s mouth was on his, swallowing the soft gasp that escaped him. The kiss was deeper than before, hotter, Jimin’s tongue sliding against Sin’s with purpose this time, chasing the metallic taste of the barbell. Sin melted against him, his hands scrambling for purchase on Jimin’s shoulders as Jimin crowded him harder against the fridge. The quiet click of metal against teeth sent a jolt of heat straight to Jimin’s gut.

Jimin pulled back just enough to murmur against Sin’s lips, "Show me." It wasn’t a question. Sin’s breath hitched, his lashes fluttering as if he was debating whether to obey. Then, with trembling fingers, he tugged his shirt up, just enough to reveal the smooth plane of his stomach, the dip of his hip—and there, nestled against the curve of his left pec, a tiny silver hoop glinted in the dim light.

Jimin’s breath caught at the sight—the way the silver hoop caught the kitchen’s dim light, casting a faint shimmer against Sin’s pale skin. He traced the curve of Sin’s ribcage with his fingertips, slow, deliberate, watching the way Sin’s breath stuttered under his touch. “How long has this been here?” Jimin murmured, thumb brushing the edge of the piercing, just barely grazing the sensitive skin around it.

Sin shivered, his cerulean eyes darting away for a moment before meeting Jimin’s again. “A—a long time,” he admitted, voice hushed. “I got it done on a whim. It healed so fast I barely noticed it after a while.” His fingers tightened in Jimin’s shirt, pulling him closer. “Forgot it was even there until now.”

Jimin exhaled sharply, heat coiling low in his stomach. The idea of Sin carrying this secret—something hidden beneath soft sweaters and shy smiles—sent a thrill through him. He leaned in, pressing his lips to Sin’s collarbone, then lower, following the path of his own fingers until his mouth hovered just above the silver hoop. Sin’s breath hitched, his body arching slightly into the touch. “Jimin—”

The name came out broken, pleading, and Jimin didn’t hesitate. He closed his mouth over the piercing, tongue flicking against the metal in a way that made Sin gasp, his back arching off the fridge. The sound was delicious—raw and unfiltered, nothing like the careful, measured tones Sin usually used. Jimin grinned against his skin, nipping lightly just below the hoop before soothing the spot with his tongue. “You’re sensitive,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to watch Sin’s face.

Sin’s fingers tangled in Jimin’s hair, gripping tight as Jimin’s mouth traced the flushed skin around the silver hoop. Every flick of his tongue drew another breathless sound from Sin’s lips—soft whimpers that trembled in the quiet kitchen. Jimin dragged his teeth lightly over the sensitive flesh just beneath the piercing, and Sin’s hips jerked forward involuntarily, his thighs pressing tight against Jimin’s waist.

“You—” Sin gasped, his voice cracking as Jimin’s hand slid down to grip his hip, anchoring him against the fridge. “Jimin, someone could—”

Jimin nipped at the inside of Sin’s thigh where his shirt had ridden up, silencing him with the sharp bite before soothing it with his tongue. “They won’t,” he murmured, pressing closer until Sin could feel the heat of him through their clothes. The distant murmur of the others’ voices in the living room was muffled, meaningless—nothing compared to the hitch in Sin’s breathing when Jimin’s thumb circled the piercing again.

Sin’s head tipped back against the fridge with a soft thud, his cerulean eyes glazed, lips parted. Jimin had never seen him like this—undone, pliant, his usual shyness melted away under the weight of want. It was intoxicating. Jimin ducked his head to capture Sin’s mouth again, swallowing the needy sound that escaped when their tongues brushed. The barbell clicked against his teeth, metallic and slick, and Jimin groaned, pressing Sin harder into the fridge.

Sin's fingers curled tighter in Jimin's hair, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts as Jimin's tongue slid against his, teasing the barbell with deliberate strokes. The metallic taste was intoxicating—something sharp and unexpected beneath Sin's usual sweetness. Jimin groaned into the kiss, his hands sliding down to grip Sin's hips, pulling him flush against his own aching need. Sin whimpered, his body arching instinctively, and Jimin could feel the tremor running through him—not fear, but something far more desperate.

The kitchen light flickered overhead, casting long shadows across Sin’s flushed face as Jimin pulled back just enough to murmur against his lips, "You're shaking." His thumb brushed the beauty mark beneath Sin’s eye, tracing the curve of his cheekbone. "Tell me to stop," Jimin challenged, voice low, though his grip on Sin’s hips betrayed how little he wanted that.

Sin’s cerulean eyes flickered—doubt, desire, then resolve. His hands slid from Jimin’s hair to cradle his face, fingers trembling but sure. "Don’t," he breathed, and that single word sent a jolt of heat straight to Jimin’s core.

Jimin didn’t hesitate. He ducked his head, mouth trailing down Sin’s throat, teeth scraping lightly over his pulse point before sucking a bruise into the delicate skin. Sin gasped, his hips jerking forward, and Jimin grinned against his collarbone, reveling in the way Sin unraveled beneath him. His fingers found the hem of Sin’s shirt again, tugging it up impatiently until the silver hoop glinted in the dim light, the skin around it flushed pink with attention.

Jimin’s fingers curled into the fabric of Sin’s shirt, twisting it higher until the silver hoop was fully exposed, the skin around it pink and sensitive. He dragged his thumb over it again, slow and deliberate, watching Sin’s breath stutter. “You’re so pretty like this,” Jimin murmured, his voice rough with want. “All flushed and desperate.” Sin’s hips jerked forward again, a silent plea, and Jimin rewarded him with a sharp flick of his thumb against the metal. Sin gasped, his fingers scrambling against the fridge door for balance.

The distant sound of Jungkook’s laughter from the living room was a distant hum, unimportant. Jimin’s world had narrowed to the way Sin’s body arched into his touch, the way his cerulean eyes darkened with every brush of Jimin’s fingers. He leaned in, pressing an open-mouthed kiss just below the piercing, his tongue dragging over the heated skin. Sin whimpered, his fingers tangling in Jimin’s hair, tugging just enough to make Jimin groan. “You like that?” Jimin teased, nipping at the sensitive flesh. Sin nodded frantically, his breath coming in short, uneven pants.

Jimin’s hand slid lower, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of Sin’s pants, tracing the sharp line of his hipbone. Sin’s breath hitched, his thighs tensing as Jimin’s fingertips skimmed lower. “Jimin—” Sin’s voice was wrecked, barely above a whisper. Jimin hummed, pressing closer, his lips brushing Sin’s ear. “Tell me what you want,” he murmured, his fingers pausing just shy of where Sin needed them most.

Sin’s fingers tightened in Jimin’s hair, his hips canting forward in a silent plea. “You,” he breathed, the word trembling on his lips. “Just you.”

Jimin didn’t need to be told twice. His hand slid the rest of the way down, palming Sin through his pants, and the choked-off sound Sin made was enough to send heat spiraling through him. Sin’s hips jerked forward, his breath coming in ragged bursts as Jimin’s fingers traced the outline of him, slow and teasing. “You’re already so hard,” Jimin murmured against his throat, nipping at the delicate skin there. “Just from this?”

Sin’s fingers clenched in Jimin’s shirt, his voice breaking around a whimper. “Y-yeah,” he admitted, the word barely audible. His cerulean eyes were hazy, pupils blown wide with want, and Jimin couldn’t resist pressing another bruising kiss to his mouth, swallowing the soft moan that escaped when his fingers tightened their grip.

The distant murmur of the others’ voices in the living room was a distant hum, irrelevant. Jimin’s world narrowed to the way Sin’s body arched into his touch, the way his breath hitched when Jimin’s thumb brushed over the head of his cock through the fabric. Sin’s thighs trembled, his hips canting forward helplessly, and Jimin grinned against his lips. “You’re so responsive,” he murmured, dragging his teeth over Sin’s lower lip. “I could do anything to you right now, couldn’t I?”

Sin nodded frantically, his fingers twisting in Jimin’s shirt. “Anything,” he breathed, the word shaky with desperation. Jimin’s pulse jumped at the admission, his grip tightening instinctively. The thought of Sin—sweet, shy Sin—spread out beneath him, pliant and willing, sent a rush of heat straight to his core.

Sin’s fingers trembled as they fumbled with the button of his pants, the metallic click of his tongue piercing against his teeth impossibly loud in the charged quiet between them. Jimin watched, rapt, as Sin’s slender fingers hesitated at the waistband—just for a second—before tugging the fabric down just enough to reveal the flushed skin beneath. His breath hitched at the sight, the way Sin’s hips twitched under his gaze, already desperate for touch.

Jimin’s hand slid over Sin’s hipbone, fingers tracing the delicate dip of his pelvis before circling the base of his cock. Sin gasped, his head thudding back against the fridge, cerulean eyes fluttering shut. “Look at me,” Jimin murmured, thumb brushing the underside just enough to make Sin whimper. His eyes snapped open, wide and glassy, lips parted around ragged breaths.

The first stroke was slow, deliberate, Jimin’s fingers curling around him just tight enough to pull a choked moan from Sin’s throat. Jimin grinned, leaning in to capture the sound with his mouth, his tongue sliding against Sin’s barbell in a way that made Sin’s hips jerk forward. “So sensitive,” Jimin murmured against his lips, thumb swiping over the head just to feel Sin shudder.

Sin’s fingers tangled in Jimin’s hair, tugging just enough to make Jimin groan. “More,” he begged, voice breaking on the word. Jimin obliged, tightening his grip, his strokes quickening until Sin’s breath came in sharp, uneven gasps. The metallic taste of Sin’s tongue piercing mingled with the salt of his skin as Jimin trailed kisses down his throat, nipping at the beauty mark beneath his eye just to hear Sin whine.

Sin’s breath hitched when Jimin’s thumb pressed against the slit of his cock, smearing the precum there in slow, deliberate circles. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, chasing the friction, but Jimin held him steady against the fridge with his free hand, pinning him in place. “Stay still,” Jimin murmured against his collarbone, teeth grazing the flushed skin. “Let me take care of you.”

Sin whimpered, his fingers tightening in Jimin’s hair as Jimin’s tongue traced the silver hoop on his nipple again, flicking it just enough to make Sin’s back arch off the fridge. The sensation was electric—sharp bursts of pleasure radiating from the piercing with every brush of Jimin’s tongue. Sin’s thighs trembled, his breath coming in ragged pants, and Jimin reveled in the way his body responded, so pliant and desperate under his touch.

Jimin’s hand sped up, twisting slightly on the upstroke just the way he knew Sin liked—learned from stolen glances and accidental brushes in the practice room, from Sin’s breath catching when Jimin’s fingers lingered a second too long on his waist during choreography. Sin’s moan was muffled against Jimin’s shoulder, his teeth sinking into the fabric of Jimin’s shirt as if to stifle the sound. Jimin grinned, nipping at Sin’s earlobe. “Let me hear you,” he whispered, his voice rough. “I want to know how good it feels.”

Sin’s grip on his hair tightened, his hips stuttering forward as Jimin’s thumb circled the head of his cock again, pressing just slightly harder. “Jimin—” His voice cracked, his body tensing, and Jimin knew he was close, teetering on the edge. He slowed his strokes abruptly, drawing a broken whine from Sin’s throat. “No—please—”

Jimin chuckled darkly, his breath hot against Sin’s throat. “Begging already?” He tightened his grip just enough to make Sin’s knees buckle, his free hand sliding up to cradle the back of Sin’s neck, holding him steady. “You’re so close,” he murmured, thumb dragging slowly over the head of Sin’s cock again, smearing precum in slick circles. “I can feel it—the way you’re shaking.” Sin whimpered, his cerulean eyes glazed, lips parted around ragged breaths.

The metallic click of Sin’s tongue piercing against his teeth sent a jolt of heat straight to Jimin’s gut. He leaned in, capturing Sin’s mouth in a bruising kiss, swallowing the desperate noise that escaped when Jimin’s thumb pressed harder against the slit. Sin’s hips jerked forward, but Jimin held him firmly against the fridge, his own arousal pressing insistently against Sin’s thigh.

“Please,” Sin gasped against Jimin’s lips, his fingers scrambling at Jimin’s shoulders. “Jimin, I—I can’t—” His voice broke off into a choked moan as Jimin’s hand twisted just right on the upstroke, his thumb brushing the sensitive spot beneath the head. Sin’s back arched, his body taut as a bowstring, and Jimin knew he was seconds away from unraveling.

Jimin slowed his strokes again, grinning at the frustrated noise Sin made. “Not yet,” he murmured, pressing open-mouthed kisses along Sin’s jaw. “I want to hear you.” His fingers traced the silver hoop on Sin’s nipple, flicking it lightly, and Sin’s breath hitched, his entire body trembling. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

Sin’s fingers dug into Jimin’s shoulders, his voice a ragged whisper against Jimin’s lips. "I—I need—" The words dissolved into a gasp as Jimin’s thumb pressed harder against the leaking head of his cock, smearing precum in slow circles. Sin’s hips jerked forward helplessly, but Jimin held him pinned against the fridge, his grip unyielding.

"Need what?" Jimin murmured, dragging his teeth over Sin’s pulse point. His free hand traced the silver hoop on Sin’s nipple again, twisting it just enough to make Sin’s thighs tremble. "Tell me."

Sin’s breath hitched, his cerulean eyes glassy with desperation. "You," he gasped, his voice breaking. "Just—just touch me—"

Jimin didn’t need to be told twice. His hand tightened around Sin’s cock, stroking him in earnest now, each twist of his wrist deliberate, calculated to wring every broken sound from Sin’s lips. Sin’s back arched off the fridge, his fingers scrambling for purchase on Jimin’s shoulders as Jimin’s thumb swiped over the head again, spreading the slickness there.

Sin’s thighs trembled violently, his entire body tensing like a coiled spring as Jimin’s fingers worked him with ruthless precision. The metallic click of his tongue piercing against his teeth was loud in the charged silence between them—a sharp, rhythmic counterpoint to his ragged breathing. Jimin watched, mesmerized, as Sin’s lips parted around silent pleas, his cerulean eyes glazed and unfocused.

"Jimin—" Sin’s voice cracked, his hips stuttering forward as Jimin’s thumb pressed against the slit of his cock, smearing precum in slow, deliberate circles. "I’m—I’m gonna—"

Jimin leaned in, pressing his forehead against Sin’s, his breath hot against Sin’s parted lips. "Come for me," he murmured, his voice rough with want. "Let go."

Sin’s body arched off the fridge with a choked gasp, his fingers digging into Jimin’s shoulders hard enough to bruise as pleasure ripped through him in sharp, shuddering waves. Jimin stroked him through it, his grip tightening just enough to wring every last drop of ecstasy from Sin’s trembling body. The sight was intoxicating—Sin’s head thrown back, his throat working around silent cries, his chest heaving with each ragged breath.

KIM TAEHYUNG

"You're staring again," Sin murmured, fingertips nervously tracing the edge of his oversized sweater sleeve. The late afternoon sun streaming through the practice room windows caught the diamond-like glimmer of his cerulean eyes when he finally dared to glance up.

Taehyung didn't even bother denying it, sprawled lazily on the polished floor with his legs stretched out. "Can't help it," he admitted, grinning when Sin’s cheeks flushed pink. "You’ve got that whole…" He waved a hand vaguely in Sin’s direction. "…ethereal doll thing going on today. Like you walked out of some antique painting."

Sin ducked his head with a soft laugh, white messy hair falling into his eyes. "Hyung, you say weird stuff sometimes."

Across the room, Jimin paused mid-stretch to toss a scrunched-up energy drink wrapper at Taehyung’s head. "Stop flirting, we have choreography in twenty."

Taehyung caught the wrapper mid-air without looking, his gaze never leaving Sin’s face. "Flirting?" he echoed, feigning innocence. "I’m just appreciating art." He flicked the crumpled foil back at Jimin, who dodged with a laugh before dragging a protesting Jungkook toward the water cooler. The others had already dispersed—Namjoon buried in his lyric notebook, Yoongi dozing against the mirrored wall, Hoseok stretching his calves with single-minded intensity—leaving Taehyung and Sin in their own little bubble of stillness.

Sin chewed his lower lip, a habit Taehyung had noticed months ago. It was unfairly endearing, the way his pink mouth worried at itself whenever he was nervous. "You’re doing it again," Taehyung murmured, shifting closer on the polished floor.

"Doing what?"

"Looking at me like I might bite." Taehyung smirked when Sin’s breath hitched. "Unless you want me to."

Sin’s breath stuttered as Taehyung closed the distance between them, the scent of vanilla body wash and something distinctly him wrapping around Sin like a promise. The practice room’s fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, but all Sin could focus on was the way Taehyung’s fingers ghosted up his thigh, deliberate as a painter tracing canvas. "Hyung," Sin whispered, but the word dissolved into a gasp when Taehyung’s thumb pressed against the hinge of his jaw, tilting his face up.

The first kiss was soft—exploratory, almost hesitant—until Taehyung’s tongue slid against his, and Sin made a sound so quiet Taehyung felt it more than heard it. Then came the shock of metal. Taehyung pulled back just enough to blink down at him. "You have a—" His voice cracked. "Tongue piercing?"

Sin’s eyes widened, his cheeks flushing scarlet as realization dawned. "Oh. Oh my god, I—" He clapped a hand over his mouth like he could hide it retroactively. "I got it ages ago," he admitted through his fingers, voice muffled. "Forgot it was even there."

Taehyung’s laugh was low, delighted. "Forgot," he repeated, thumb brushing Sin’s bottom lip. "Sweetheart, how do you forget something like that?" Sin squirmed, but Taehyung didn’t let him retreat, leaning in until their foreheads touched. "Show me," he murmured, and when Sin parted his lips obediently, Taehyung caught the glint of silver again. "Fuck," he breathed, and kissed him harder this time, chasing the taste of metal and the way Sin shuddered beneath him.

Taehyung’s hands slid under Sin’s sweater, fingers skating over the warm skin of his waist, and Sin arched into the touch with a muffled whine. The fabric rode up, exposing a sliver of pale stomach—and that’s when Taehyung felt it. A tiny, raised bump beneath his fingertips, something that definitely wasn’t skin. He froze. “Wait,” he murmured against Sin’s mouth, pulling back just enough to stare down at him. “Is that—?”

Sin’s breath hitched when Taehyung’s thumb brushed over the spot again, his cerulean eyes going wide. “Oh,” he whispered, like he’d just remembered something embarrassing. “That’s… um.”

Taehyung didn’t wait for an explanation. He pushed the sweater up higher, revealing the delicate silver barbell nestled in the dip of Sin’s left nipple, the metal catching the light as Sin’s chest rose and fell unevenly. “You,” Taehyung said slowly, “are full of surprises.”

Sin covered his face with his hands, his ears turning pink. “I was drunk,” he mumbled through his fingers. “Jimin dared me when we were out last year, and I—I don’t even remember doing it until the next morning.”

Taehyung’s grin was slow, predatory, as he traced the outline of the barbell with his fingertip, watching Sin shiver beneath him. “Drunk Jimin dares are legendary,” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss just below Sin’s collarbone. “But I’m starting to think you’re just secretly rebellious.” Sin squirmed, his breath hitching when Taehyung’s teeth grazed the sensitive skin near the piercing. “Hyung,” he gasped, fingers tangling in Taehyung’s hair—whether to pull him closer or push him away, even he didn’t seem to know.

The door to the practice room creaked open, and Taehyung barely had time to yank Sin’s sweater back down before Hoseok’s voice cut through the haze. “Yah, lovebirds, Namjoon says we’re starting in—” He froze, taking in the scene: Sin’s flushed face, Taehyung’s disheveled hair, the way Sin’s lips were still swollen from kissing. Hoseok’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Oh.” He backed out slowly, hands raised in surrender. “I’ll just—tell him you’re, uh, stretching.” The door clicked shut behind him, followed by the sound of Hoseok’s muffled laughter echoing down the hallway.

Sin groaned, burying his face in Taehyung’s shoulder. “We’re never living this down,” he muttered, though the way his body still arched slightly toward Taehyung betrayed him. Taehyung chuckled, nuzzling into Sin’s messy white hair. “Pretty sure Hoseok’s already texting the group chat.” He could practically hear the notification chimes exploding in real time. Sin whimpered, but Taehyung just kissed his temple. “Relax. They’ve all walked in on worse.”

Sin peeked up at him, curiosity flickering in those diamond-bright eyes. “Worse?”

Taehyung’s grin turned wicked, fingers tracing idle patterns along Sin’s hip where the sweater had ridden up again. "Remember when Jin walked in on Jungkook trying to shave his abs with Yoongi’s razor?" He chuckled at the memory, the sound vibrating against Sin’s temple. "Or that time Jimin got his head stuck in the staircase railing after betting Namjoon he could ‘fit anywhere’?"

Sin’s laugh was breathless, sweet, and Taehyung felt it against his collarbone like a pulse. "But this is—" He gestured vaguely between them, fingers fluttering like trapped butterflies. "Us."

"And?" Taehyung caught one of those fluttering hands, pressing a kiss to Sin’s knuckles. The silver of his tongue piercing glinted when he smirked. "You think they haven’t noticed how I look at you?" His thumb brushed over the beauty mark beneath Sin’s eye, a habit he’d developed months ago. "Like you’re the only thing in the room worth seeing."

Sin’s breath hitched, but before he could respond, Taehyung’s phone buzzed violently against the floor. Then again. And again. Sin groaned, dropping his forehead against Taehyung’s shoulder as the screen lit up with a rapid-fire stream of notifications—emojis, mostly, with Jungkook’s all-caps FINALLY towering above the rest. Taehyung didn’t bother checking it. Instead, he tilted Sin’s chin up, drinking in the way his cerulean eyes had gone dark, pupils blown wide. "Ignore them," he murmured, and Sin nodded, pliant as Taehyung’s mouth found his again.

The buzzing phone skittered across the floor like a dying insect, ignored. Taehyung’s fingers tangled in Sin’s sweater, pulling him closer until their chests pressed together—close enough to feel the rapid flutter of Sin’s heartbeat through layers of fabric. The silver barbell was a secret between them now, a hidden pulse point Taehyung couldn’t stop tracing with his thumb through the soft cotton. Sin whimpered when Taehyung’s teeth grazed his lower lip, catching on the piercing with a click that sent heat licking down Taehyung’s spine.

Somewhere beyond the locked door, Hoseok’s laughter faded into the distant thump of bass from the studio speakers, but the world had narrowed to the space between Sin’s parted lips and the way his body arched when Taehyung’s knee slid between his thighs. “Hyung,” Sin breathed, the word dissolving into a gasp as Taehyung’s hand slipped under his sweater again, fingertips skating over the delicate metal. “We—ah—we really should—”

“Should what?” Taehyung murmured against the shell of his ear, grinning when Sin shuddered. “Go out there and pretend we weren’t just—” He punctuated the sentence by flicking the barbell lightly, watching Sin’s hips jerk. “—doing this?”

Sin’s answering groan was equal parts frustration and surrender, his fingers tightening in Taehyung’s hair. “You’re impossible.”

Taehyung's grin widened as Sin's grip in his hair tightened—not pulling him away, but anchoring himself, as if he might float away without the tether. "Impossible?" he repeated, nipping lightly at Sin's earlobe, relishing the way his breath hitched. "Or just really good at this?"

Sin's laugh was half a whimper, his hips pressing unconsciously against Taehyung's thigh. "Both," he admitted, voice fraying at the edges. The admission seemed to startle him, and he bit his lip again, the silver of his tongue piercing flashing—a quick, bright glimpse of rebellion beneath all that softness. Taehyung wanted to lick it.

So he did.

Sin gasped when Taehyung's tongue slid against his, the metal cool against the heat of his mouth. The sound was delicious, and Taehyung chased it, deepening the kiss until Sin's fingers went slack in his hair, his body melting like wax under a flame. The sweater had ridden up entirely now, exposing the delicate silver barbell again, and Taehyung couldn't resist dragging his thumb over it once more, watching Sin's back arch off the floor.

The door rattled violently—once, twice—before Jungkook’s voice cut through the haze. “Hyung, Namjoon says if you’re not out here in thirty seconds, he’s revoking your studio privileges for a month.” A pause. Then, quieter: “…Are you pants? Please don’t be pants.”

Taehyung exhaled a laugh against Sin’s throat, where a bruise was already blooming beneath his lips. “Tell him we’re meditating,” he called back, rolling his hips just to feel Sin’s breath catch.

“Liar!” Jungkook’s indignant squawk was muffled through the door. “Yoongi-hyung says meditation doesn’t sound like that!”

Sin made a strangled noise, burying his face in Taehyung’s shoulder as his entire body flushed pink. Taehyung grinned, sliding a hand up Sin’s spine to cradle the back of his neck. “Tell Yoongi-hyung he’s uninvited from my birthday party.”

The door clicked shut again, followed by Jungkook's retreating footsteps and the distant, scandalized murmur of voices. Sin exhaled shakily, his fingers still tangled in Taehyung’s shirt. "They're never going to let us live this down," he whispered, but the way his hips rocked against Taehyung’s thigh betrayed his distraction.

Taehyung nipped at his jawline, grinning at the way Sin’s breath hitched. "Worth it," he murmured, dragging his thumb over the barbell again just to watch Sin’s lashes flutter. The metal was warm now from his skin, the tiny beads at either end catching the light every time Sin shivered. Taehyung had seen a lot of piercings—hell, he’d had a few himself—but something about this, about Sin’s quiet, hidden rebellion, made his pulse thrum. "You’re like a present," he said suddenly, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Sin blinked up at him, cerulean eyes hazy. "A… present?"

"Mm." Taehyung traced the beauty mark beneath Sin’s eye, then down to the swell of his bottom lip. "All wrapped up sweet and innocent until someone unwraps you." His thumb brushed over Sin’s tongue piercing, feeling the cool metal against the pad of his finger. "Then bam." He flicked the barbell lightly, delighting in Sin’s gasp. "Surprise."

Sin’s laugh was breathless, uneven, as Taehyung’s fingers trailed lower, skimming the waistband of his jeans. "You make me sound like some—ah—some delinquent in hiding," he managed, arching when Taehyung’s teeth grazed his throat. The barbell glinted accusingly in the overhead lights, as if daring Taehyung to ignore it.

Taehyung didn’t. He ducked his head, pressing an open-mouthed kiss just above the silver, and Sin’s hips jerked off the floor like he’d been electrocuted. "A delinquent," Taehyung repeated against his skin, voice thick with amusement. "With your blushing and your sweater paws." He nipped at the sensitive skin beside the piercing, and Sin whimpered, fingers scrambling for purchase against the polished floor. "Tell me, sweetheart—" Another kiss, slower this time, just to feel Sin tremble. "—what other secrets are you hiding?"

Sin’s breath hitched, his cerulean eyes darting away—just for a second, but it was enough. Taehyung froze. "No," he breathed, pulling back to stare down at him. "There’s more?" Sin bit his lip, the silver flash of his tongue piercing taunting. Taehyung’s grip tightened on his hips. "Where?"

The door rattled again, this time with the force of someone leaning against it. "Taehyung-ah," Namjoon’s voice floated through, exasperated but fond. "We’re on a schedule. Unless you want Jin-hyung to start another lecture about professionalism—"

Sin's fingers twitched against Taehyung's chest, his gaze darting to the door as Namjoon's shadow shifted beneath the gap. "Hyung—" His whisper was urgent, panicked, but Taehyung just smirked, pressing a finger to Sin's swollen lips.

"Tell him we're coming," Taehyung murmured, rolling his hips deliberately against Sin's thigh just to watch his pupils dilate. Then, louder: "Five minutes, Joon!"

A sigh. The shadow lingered. "Two," Namjoon countered, and the floor creaked as he walked away.

JEON JUNGKOOK

Sin's left earlobe had a tiny silver hoop that caught the light every time he turned his head—a detail most people missed unless they were standing close. He’d gotten it years ago, back when he was fifteen and feeling reckless for the first time in his life, daring himself to walk into a piercing parlor on a whim. The memory was hazy now, buried under layers of quieter, softer days spent trailing after the BTS members like a second shadow.

Jungkook noticed it for the first time during a photoshoot, when Sin had been instructed to tilt his head just so, the silver glinting against his pale skin. "You have an earring," Jungkook said, blinking as if he’d discovered something monumental. Sin touched the hoop self-consciously, his cheeks flushing pink. "Oh. Yeah. I forgot about it most of the time."

Jimin, passing by with an armful of styling clips, snorted. "How do you forget a piercing?"

Sin shrugged, his cerulean eyes flickering downward. "It’s just… there. Like a freckle or something."

The studio lights buzzed overhead, casting sharp shadows as Sin adjusted the collar of his shirt—a nervous habit Jungkook had catalogued months ago. Tonight, though, the gesture felt different. Maybe it was the way Sin’s fingers trembled slightly, or how his pink lips parted just before he spoke, then closed again. Jungkook leaned against the dressing room doorframe, arms crossed. "You’re staring," Sin murmured, eyes darting away.

"Sorry," Jungkook lied, not sorry at all.

A silence stretched between them, thick with something unspoken. Then, like a switch flipping, Sin exhaled sharply and stepped closer. The kiss was clumsy at first—all nose bumps and hesitation—but when Sin’s tongue brushed against Jungkook’s, the metallic click of metal on teeth made Jungkook jerk back. "What the—?"

Sin’s face burned scarlet. "Oh. That." His tongue darted out, revealing a tiny silver barbell nestled in the pink flesh. "I got it… awhile ago."

Jungkook's fingers froze mid-air, hovering near Sin's jaw as if the touch might burn him. His eyebrows shot up, lips still parted in surprise. "You—" he started, then stopped, throat bobbing. The silver glint on Sin's tongue was hypnotic, catching the dim dressing room light every time he breathed.

Sin swallowed hard, looking like he wanted to melt into the floor. "I forgot," he repeated, voice barely above a whisper. "I swear. It—it was a stupid phase."

"A phase," Jungkook echoed, and then, because he couldn't help himself—because his pulse was hammering in his ears and Sin's eyelashes were fluttering like trapped butterflies—he grinned. "Show me again."

Sin hesitated, then leaned in, slow this time, purposeful. His tongue pressed warm against Jungkook's, the barbell cool and smooth, an electric contrast that sent a shiver down Jungkook's spine. When they broke apart, Jungkook's hands were already slipping under Sin's shirt, fingers skimming the dip of his waist. "Wait," Sin gasped, but Jungkook was already thumbing over a nipple—and there, another piercing, another tiny shock of metal beneath his fingertips.

Jungkook's breath hitched. His fingers lingered, tracing the outline of the small steel ring beneath Sin's shirt—proof of another secret, another reckless moment Sin had tucked away and forgotten. "How many more?" Jungkook murmured, half-laughing, half-dazed, his thumb rubbing slow circles over the metal. Sin squirmed, his cerulean eyes wide and glassy under the dressing room's low lights. "That's—that's it," he stammered. "Just these two. I swear."

But Jungkook wasn't convinced. He tugged Sin's shirt up, just enough to see the glint of silver against flushed skin, and something hot coiled in his stomach. "You," he said, voice rough, "are full of surprises." Sin made a tiny, embarrassed noise, fingers twisting in the fabric of Jungkook's sleeve. "It was a dare," he admitted. "Back in high school. My friends said I wouldn't do it, so I—" He broke off with a gasp as Jungkook's mouth replaced his fingers, lips closing around the piercing with a teasing flick of his tongue.

The sound Sin made then—high, breathless—was enough to make Jungkook's knees weak. He pulled back just enough to watch Sin's face crumple, his pink lips bitten red, his beauty mark stark against his burning cheeks. "You're killing me," Jungkook muttered, and Sin, ever the contradiction, laughed—a soft, shaky thing that dissolved into a moan when Jungkook's teeth grazed the metal.

Outside, the muffled chatter of the other members filtered through the door—Jimin's bright laughter, Yoongi's dry commentary—but here, in this stolen space, it was just them: Sin's hips jerking forward, Jungkook's hands gripping his waist to steady him. "We should—" Sin started, then shuddered when Jungkook sucked lightly at the piercing. "—stop," he finished weakly, though his fingers were tangled in Jungkook's hair, holding him close.

The word "stop" hung between them like a dare, half-hearted and trembling. Jungkook pulled back just enough to catch the way Sin's pupils swallowed the cerulean of his eyes, the way his chest rose and fell in quick, shallow bursts. "You don't mean that," Jungkook murmured, thumb brushing over the damp fabric stretched taut across Sin's nipple. The metal ring beneath was a hard, insistent presence, and when Sin arched into the touch with a bitten-off whimper, Jungkook grinned. "See?"

Sin's fingers tightened in Jungkook's hair, tugging just enough to sting. "Someone could—ah—come in," he gasped, but the protest was undercut by the way his hips rolled forward, the heat of him pressing against Jungkook's thigh. The dressing room was too small, the air too thick with the scent of cotton and sweat and something sweet—maybe Sin's shampoo, maybe the adrenaline singing in Jungkook's veins.

Jungkook ducked his head again, lips grazing the hollow of Sin's throat. "Then be quiet," he whispered, and the way Sin shuddered at the words, at the hot puff of breath against his skin, was its own reward. His teeth found the silver barbell again, worrying it gently between his lips, and Sin's breath hitched, his back hitting the wall with a soft thud. The noise was barely there, but Jungkook froze anyway, listening for footsteps outside the door—but there was only the distant hum of conversation, the occasional burst of laughter.

Sin's hands slid down to grip Jungkook's shoulders, his nails digging in through the thin fabric of his shirt. "You're—god—you're impossible," he breathed, but the words were slurred, his head tipping back against the wall. Jungkook hummed against his skin, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of Sin's pants, tracing the jut of his hipbone. "You like it," he countered, and Sin didn't deny it, just moaned—soft, broken—when Jungkook's fingers dipped lower.

Sin’s breath came in sharp little gasps, each one hitching higher as Jungkook’s fingers traced lower, skimming the sensitive skin just above his waistband. The dressing room walls felt too close suddenly, the air thick with the scent of Sin’s nervous sweat and the faint, sugary tang of his lip balm. Jungkook could feel the rapid flutter of Sin’s pulse beneath his fingertips, the way his body tensed and then melted in turns, like he couldn’t decide whether to pull away or press closer.

“You’re shaking,” Jungkook murmured, lips brushing the shell of Sin’s ear. His voice was low, rough with something Sin had never heard in it before—something that made his stomach twist hotly. Sin’s grip on Jungkook’s shoulders tightened, his nails biting in even through the fabric. “I—I’m not,” he lied, but the tremor in his voice gave him away. Jungkook chuckled, the sound vibrating against Sin’s throat, and then his fingers were slipping past the waistband, curling around him, and Sin’s knees buckled.

The noise Sin made was muffled against Jungkook’s shoulder, a choked-off whimper that he barely managed to smother. Jungkook’s other hand slid up to cradle the back of Sin’s head, fingers tangling in his messy white hair. “Shh,” he whispered, though his own breathing was uneven now, his heart hammering against his ribs. Outside, someone—Jimin, maybe—laughed loudly, the sound jarringly bright against the hushed tension of the room. Sin flinched, his body going rigid, but Jungkook didn’t stop, his thumb swiping over the head of Sin’s cock in a slow, deliberate circle.

“Jungkook,” Sin gasped, his voice cracking. His cerulean eyes were wide, pupils blown so dark they nearly swallowed the blue. “We can’t—not here—” But his hips stuttered forward anyway, betraying him, and Jungkook grinned, sharp and pleased. “You keep saying that,” he murmured, “but your body keeps saying yes.” Sin’s breath hitched, his cheeks flaming, but he didn’t argue—just buried his face in Jungkook’s neck, his fingers clutching at him like he was the only solid thing in the room.

The door handle rattled—just once, a sharp click that sent Sin’s heart slamming against his ribs. Jungkook’s hand stilled, his body locking tight as Sin’s breath stopped entirely. For one endless second, the world narrowed to the sound of footsteps pausing outside, the muffled murmur of someone—Jimin? Hoseok?—humming absently before moving on. Sin exhaled shakily, his forehead dropping against Jungkook’s shoulder. "Oh my god," he whispered, the words trembling. "We’re gonna get caught."

Jungkook’s laugh was a quiet puff of air against Sin’s temple. "Not if you keep quiet," he murmured, but his fingers slid free anyway, smoothing up Sin’s spine in a slow, apologetic stroke. Sin shivered, his body still thrumming with unspent tension, his pulse rabbiting under Jungkook’s palm where it rested against his throat. "You’re cruel," he accused weakly, but the way he nuzzled into Jungkook’s neck ruined the effect.

Jungkook pressed a kiss to the beauty mark beneath Sin’s eye, lingering just long enough to feel the way Sin’s lashes fluttered against his cheek. "You love it," he teased, grinning when Sin huffed and pinched his side. The moment stretched, warm and syrupy, until the distant sound of someone calling Jungkook’s name shattered the illusion. Sin stiffened, pulling back with a frantic little noise. "Shit—shit—they’re looking for you."

‧₊˚✧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ✧₊˚‧୨୧ ───────────────────── ୨୧⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧